


The King's Servant

by Rachel_Lu



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Cinderella Elements, F/M, Historical, King!Tenth Doctor, Kings & Queens, Marriage, Royalty, Servant! Rose Tyler, Servants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Lu/pseuds/Rachel_Lu
Summary: A young servant, Rose Tyler, belongs to a high class family that has a debt, and is transferred to the King of Scotland, a stoic man who is a harsh but fair ruler, and asked for her specifically.  Although curious, Rose has to wonder if she will ever feel at home, and has a bit of a struggle getting acquainted with her new surroundings and co workers.





	1. Chapter 1

"Rose, I'm afraid you're going to have to go."

Rose's head shot up from where she was cleaning the dishes.  Her owner was a lord of a manor, a very rich manor, and he had come into the kitchen, which had been confusing enough.  Rose cleared her throat, trying not to feel fear ripping through her, and looked at her master. 

She rubbed her hands over her apron and dipped into a curtsy before meeting his eye again. "Forgive me, my lord, but I don't quite understand what you're saying to me."  She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. 

Her owner looked very chagrined himself.  "We know you are indentured to us, but the fact of the matter is, we are in debt to someone else?"

Rose cocked an eyebrow. She had been with this family long enough that the action would not be seen as incredulous or intrusive. "And who might that be, my lord?"

"I wish for you to have dinner with us.  The dinners you create are always wonderful, and I wish for you to be a able to partake in one.  Do you accept?" 

"And then you will tell me what's happened?" Rose asked timidly.  

Her master, a man who went by the name Ian Chesterton.  He was kind, and his wife Barbara was as well.  Rose found that she was very lucky that she had been their indentured servant and not anyone else's. They had always been good to her, though they were a childless cover, they were very happy, and there was much work for her to do with the other servants about the manor. 

Some of them scorned her, because she was not only young but rather pretty, but others pitied her, because as a servant who could never be released of her duties, she would never marry, and her beauty would go to waste, really. Rose knew this and tried not to dwell on it, for since she was young she could remember that she had wanted a family.  And before her father left her and her mother in tremendous debt after he died, that was a possibility. 

As it was, Rose was ripped from her mother's arms at seven years old, when the authorities in the kingdom were sick of her mother not being able to pay the debt.  She remembered her mother screaming and crying, and she remembered screaming and crying as well. her mother had done her best, under the circumstances that they were given, and Rose still saw her as a role model, even though it had been thirteen years since she had seen her mother last. 

The Chestertons had been so good to her, though, almost raised her as their own, except with more work, but now she was to be given away? She hardly wanted to think of that.  She felt comfortable here, was used to it.  She'd heard of cruel masters and didn't want one.  She found that she would rather be comfortable in their home for the rest of her life than move around to anywhere else.  It was an alarming thought that made her heart pound nearly violently in her chest. 

So she cooked the meal with Lynda as her assistant.  She murmured to Lynda what had transpired just a bit earlier over the cleaning of the dishes. 

"No!" Lynda said, furrowing her brow, "You cannot leave, Rose!  They will not allow it.  You must know that."

"I believe that Master Ian and Mistress Barbara would never give me away, or sell me without a reason.  There must be something that has happened.  They say they owe someone."

"So why would they not give away one of the more bitter servants.  Missy?"

Rose's lip twitched.  "Because, Missy has been with the family for far longer than I.  I believe they keep her out of pity, really."  She found her heart sink back into despair.  "There is not much I can do I am afraid."

"Well, who could they possibly be indebted to to need to give you away?" Lynda asked, pulling out her knife and cutting up the celery just as Rose told her. 

"I can't imagine.  But they've asked me to eat dinner with them tonight.  That makes me think that I will be sent right out tonight.  Things must have been rather urgent for them to need to do that," She checked on her meat that was cooking and smiled over at Lynda, albeit a little sadly.  "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

Lynda lifted her chin.  "You are very brave, Rose," she said, not quite gushing, but making Rose feel like she was very much not a servant.  

"I am not."

"Why do they not give me away?" Lynda asked defiantly.  "Hm? I do nothing!  I am useless!"

"You are young, Lynda," Rose scolded.  "Two years younger than I.  They will want to keep you."

"To save me the trauma? I can handle it!"

"Lynda, that is enough," Rose said, "I don't want you to think about this anymore, alright? I will be fine. Perhaps Master Ian and Mistress Barbara will let you write to me, wherever it is I happen to go."

Lynda pouted. "I will not stand for this."

"That is ridiculous." Rose said, rolling her eyes.  "Now, come on, chop those vegetables, or they will never be ready in time for dinner."

Missy, the aforementioned bitter servant, poked her head in just then, a pleasant smile on her face.  It occurred to Rose that Missy would be happy to see her go, and she would be the favored servant once more.

"Oh, Rose," she said, drawing Rose's name out in a sing-songy fashion.  "The lord of the house wants you to pack up your things. It appears that you might be heading out tonight."

"I'm fully aware of that, Missy," Rose said coolly, "I'll go ahead and go up once I finish with the meat.  Lynda can take over from there."

"As you wish. And, seeing as this is your first and only meal with the masters, I would suggest you dress your best," Missy said, examining her hand as though it was the most interesting thing in the world and she couldn't care less whether or not Rose was leaving. 

"I was planning on it," Rose said airily, trying to make it appear as though she was not bothered in the least.  In truth, Missy irritated her quite a bit, and irritated the rest of the staff as well.  She threw her meat in the pot and brushed past Missy on her way past, taking off her apron.  

She blew out her cheeks as she headed towards her quarters.  The servants had it very good in the Chesterton manor, and each had their own tiny room instead of sharing one large quarters.  She had a small bag to fill with her meager possessions.  Her best dress was a ratty red one with several patches.  It was passed down to her when Barbara didn't need it anymore.  

After she had her things packed and her best dress donned she went down to serve up dinner, a hearty soup with freshly baked bread.  It was not much, but it seemed that no one had gone out to buy food from the market in awhile. Rose wondered if that was because of what the lord of the house had said about debt.  

She served the food and waited for Barbara and Ian to sit before she sat herself.  She waited until someone else spoke before she uttered a single word. 

"I know that you wonder quite what is going on as well," Ian said, rubbing his brow. "I fear that we are indebted to someone far above us."

Rose's heart jumped in her chest. "It's not the queen, is it?"  Of course, it would be an honor to serve under the Queen of England, but she didn't want to.  There were too many people at work in a palace like that, she would be stepped on and overrun. It was an unpleasant thought and she was prepared to get on her knees and beg not to go when Barbara shook her head. 

"No," she shook her head, "It's the King Of Scotland.  Surprisingly, his estate is much smaller and he has fewer servants."

Rose blinked. "The King of Scotland?"

"King John of Scots," Ian said, taking a bite of bread. "I know it is not what you expected, but really, it is not what any of us expected.  As it turns out, we have a great deal of debt to the kingdom, and we told the King about all our servants, and they chose you."

Rose was incredibly surprised by that, and had to keep her jaw from falling open.   "Um..  I'm sorry... I don't understand.  They _asked_ for me?"

"Well, the King did," Ian said, "He was quite taken with your work ethic, said he could really use someone like you on his staff."

"Oh," Rose said softly.

When we gold him about you, he seemed to... I don't know. Light up.  He was very excited for you to join his other servants."

Rose didn't like this, the discussion of her moving households. "And I suppose I'll be leaving tonight? That is what Missy told me, after all."

"Missy would be right."  Barbara said sadly, and brought her napkin up to touch under her eyes as tears threatened to spill over. "I don't want to have to do this, Rose, I really don't."

"I know," Rose said, smiling as much as she could bear it.  "I can not imagine what you must be feeling."

Ian sighed, "We have all but raised you, Rose, and I cannot imagine not having you in our household."

Several hours later, Rose was in a carriage by herself on her way to Scotland.  Barbara had openly wept and embraced Rose goodbye.  Ian kissed her hand, and she felt, not for the first time, as though the three of them were equals.  It was odd and she wished she could have stayed on so that they might have freed her, if they loved her enough, if they saw fit.  

It was nighttime, but Rose could not find herself to fall asleep.  She was very much awake until dawn hit and they reached the palace. It was made of fine stone and brick, easily the largest and most solid building she had ever seen. She still wore her best dress but now felt self conscious of her patches. The King had asked for her after all, and that was quite flattering all in itself, but she wanted to meet up with his expectations. 

"Now announcing his majesty, King John!" A voice called from somewhere far off as Rose got herself out of the carriage with no assistance.  A man came sweeping up the drive towards her, a crown settled firmly on top of a mess of dark hair, a red cape flowing out from his royal finery.  He was quite attractive, and Rose had quite a lot of trouble focusing on his face.  She had never seen a man that good looking, of that she was sure. 

Remembering herself after just a moment, she dropped into a deep curtsy, bowing her head. 

"Raise you up," he said when he stood before her.  She got shakily to her feet but did not look him in the eyes, instead, clutched her bag in her fists in front of her.  

"Is that all you have?" He asked. 

She nodded. "Yes, your majesty," she said softly. 

"Oh, that won't do." He looked to one of his guards. "One of you will send Donna to get her measurements once she has slept. She can't have but four dresses in that bag," He seemed to be offended that the Chestertons had not given her more to dress herself in. 

"Do you have a coat for the winter months? They are approaching," the King said. 

God, she thought to herself, even his _voice_ was kingly. She still couldn't bear to look at him.  She shook her head.  "No." She admitted quietly, "I do not."

"Oh, now _that_ will not do at _all,"_ The King said sternly.  "My guards will escort you to your new quarters.  Tomorrow the only meal you are expected to cook is dinner.  You may sleep as late as you want, I expect you have gotten little sleep in the carriage."

"I have not slept, your Majesty," Rose admitted. "I thank you for the extra rest."

"Of course.  Donna will find you, worry not. I think you shall like her.  Now then, guards, take her to her quarters and held her settle in. I have business to attend to."

It was only when he turned and walked from her that Rose looked up, and found that the back of him, though obstructed by the cape, was still just as attractive as the rest of him. She swallowed hard. These were wildly inappropriate thoughts to be happening, she scolded herself.  He was her employer, after all.  

She was led to a tower that she was told by one of the stoic guards that the rest of the servants stayed in the other towers as well as this one.   Her room there was bigger than the one in the Chesterton's but only just, enough to fit a basin and pitcher so she could wash her face in the morning. Other than that: one meager bed and a small trunk to put her things in. 

She barely had the energy to strip down into her shift before her heart lurched with sadness and she collapsed into the bed, curling in a ball and crying herself to sleep. She felt as though she had just lost her family, and so her heart was aching.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this has historical elements, this is not 100% historically accurate, and that is intentional. I want to have a little bit of artistic freedom but I still want to have all the elements of a historical romance, including knights and castles and and the semi-classical speech. I don't think Rose's kitchen is all the way accurate, but I wanted it to seem fantastical. 
> 
> That being said, please enjoy :)

The next morning (or late in the afternoon, as the case turned out to be) Rose awoke to a knock on her thin, wooden door.  She curled in on herself, scrunching up her face and screwing her eyes shut.  She did not want to think about getting up. But she remembered that she was, in fact, a servant, and was not expected to have many feelings at all. 

With the Chesterton's household, that had been very different. She was not sure how things would be in the King's household, and it made her incredibly nervous.  Suppose she said or did the wrong thing, and she didn't know better, and they beat her?  She did not think the King looked like a man who would beat his servants, but she did not know.  One could never know, really. 

"Yes?" Rose called, her voice hoarse with disuse. 

"My name's Donna, I'm to get you up," a cheerful voice said outside her door.  Rose could not help but smile as she rolled out of bed. 

"I'll be right out, Donna," She said, "Let me just get dressed, please."

"Of course. I'll wait."

Donna fell silent and Rose changed, into a simple grey frock with a white apron over it.  She pulled and pinned her hair into a simple updo to keep it off her face and slipped on her black shoes, the only pairs of shoes she owned, and opened her door.  

A tall, striking redheaded woman stood outside the door in a light blue frock with a clean apron and her hair tied back in a pretty, patterned kerchief.  She smiled brightly at Rose. 

"The King is sending out for a new wardrobe, fear not," Donna said, taking her hands. "I'm going to be taking care of you.  You'll be our cook, mostly, though other people work in the kitchen and you will be needed for other things."

Rose nodded. "Of course," she said, and she realized that she would have been foolish to think that she would be doing anything else than what she had been doing. Of course, the Chestertons would have to tell the King her skills. Perhaps that was why the King had chosen her.  Perhaps the food in the palace was awful.  

"You have a dinner to prepare, now," Donna said, releasing her hands and staring off down the corridor.  Rose shut her bedroom door and walked after Donna, forcing herself to be able to keep up with her long, confident strides. Rose wondered what it was like to be that confident. 

"What will I be preparing?" Rose asked.

"Whatever you like," Donna said, "I will be assisting you tonight, as there are many other things to attend to tonight."

"Is an event approaching?"

"There will be a Christmas ball, though that is not for about four months.  We must prepare far in advance, after all."  Donna continued to explain the preparation of the ball, and Rose felt anxious just thinking about it. Never had Rose heard of an event so extravagant, and she was going to have to _cook_ for it.  She swallowed hard and followed closer to Donna.  

  
"The King is supposed to have a bride," Dona rolled her eyes. "He refuses."

Rose furrowed her brow. "And why is that?"

"Well, he does not believe he needs a Queen, but that man needs balance.  Between you and me, that is," she said, looking over at Rose.  "He is now thirty years old, and has done nothing but turn his nose up at every princess that walks through his door."

"So, he is to find a wife at the Christmas ball?" Rose asked curiously.

"He is _supposed_ to.  The advisers have set it up, but he has not agreed to it."

Rose pursed her lips. "Why would he refuse?  He has the ability to marry whoever he wants. It is not like he is held back by position, as we are."

"You are a wise young woman, Rose,"  Donna grinned over her shoulder at the younger woman, who she was quickly seeing as her young charge.  

They soon reached the kitchen, and the moment Rose stepped inside, her jaw dropped slightly. 

"Oh," She breathed, and took a few steps further inside.  It was massive, much larger than the kitchen that the Chestertons had had, and she put her hand over her mouth. She felt as rich as any queen in this room, and was almost afraid to touch anything that was around her.  There were so many pots and pans and a stove!  She would have to simply throw a match into some kindling in the contraption and that would be that.  

Donna watched Rose's face as she entered the room and smiled softly.  It seemed like this would be a good fit for Rose.  She seemed passionate about the culinary arts and Donna had an idea that perhaps that King had realized this when he had been hearing about her, and had taken her on simply for that reason. 

"It's all yours!  Well, ours, for today, and you can call in help whenever you need it," Donna reminded her. 

"I've never cooked for a household this large before."

"Yes, well, you won't need to cook for that many more people. There are about one hundred people, guards, knights, and servants, in total."

"That does not seem like enough."

"Well, for dear King John, God bless his soul, it is quite enough," Donna assured her, smiling.  "Now, come!  We've dinner to prepare!  Take a look around, let us she what we will make."

Rose smiled and began to look through the cupboards and found the cold box that was filled with just enough meat for a few days, so it would not spoil.  Rose found a heavy chunk of duck and pulled it out, very much in her element.  She looked about and pulled spices and Donna fell into step with her.  The both of them worked well together, and Donna helped her with the measurements to make them bigger, and bland chicken was cooked for the servants instead of the duck, as the knights and King would be eating the better food. 

"Oh, we must put spices on the chicken, or something," Rose said, sprinkling on light salt and grinding the pepper so that it was light on there as well.  She looked up at Donna.  "Just because we are lesser does not mean that we cannot eat like Kings."

Donna smiled, and as Rose was preparing the final dish with duck and roasted vegetables quite happily, she revealed exactly what she was going to be doing. 

"Rose, you're going to have to deliver this meal," Donna said, "Usually the hostess would do it, but tonight, I'm afraid it will have to be you."

Rose froze from sprinkling parsley on the plate. "Deliver the meal?  To the King?  At his table?" She looked up at Donna, fear in her eyes. "I cannot," she said vehemently. 

"The King demanded it when I came to wake you.  He said he wished to see how you interacted when you were not sleep deprived, if you would fit in here."  

She felt anxiety mounting in her very bones. "Will you be with me?" She asked. 

"Yes, I will be right behind you.  Two knights eat with the King, as does his favorite manservant, Jack.  I think you will find things quite casual between them all."  

Rose nodded, and started to place the plates on a tray, which would be rolled into the dining hall.  It took her a few minutes to get things just right, and she wiped her hands on her apron.  She began rolling out the tray, and Donna directed her two halls down to the dining hall.  Donna knocked heavily on the mahogany door, and heard a rumbling, tenor "Come in," from the King himself.  

After a brief moment of collecting herself, Rose pushed her cart in and lowered her eyes.  "Roast duck with vegetables and fresh bread, my lords, your Majesty," she said, curtsying deeply. 

"Is _this_ your new servant, your Majesty?" A cheerful man with dark hair and snapping blue eyes said. Rose found herself looking at him just because he seemed so friendly.  She smiled a little and dropped her gaze again before she began serving. 

"Yes, Jack, this is Rose," The King said, his voice steady. "Did you sleep well?  Your journey was long and tiring."

"Yes, your majesty, I did. Thank you."  She said, placing a plate in front of him first. 

The knights were quiet, and Rose wondered if they were not allowed to speak.  After all, the King had no family, so he might as well let his knights speak to him, shouldn't he?  She tried not to let her mind wander as she served the dinner, her heart pounding in her chest.  She did _not_ want to go about this wrong. 

"You are quite welcome, Rose," the King said.  "This looks wonderful.  You must have worked very hard on it."

Taking this as permission to speak, Rose nodded.  "Yes, your majesty.  I do so enjoy cooking and wanted to make a good meal for you. Donna helped a great deal as well."

"She is quite competent, your majesty," Donna chimed in, "I think you'll find that it was this excellent woman who did the majority of the work."

Rose blushed and set the final plate down in front of Jack before backing away and holding her hands in front of her.  "Will that be all, your majesty?"

"Not quite," the King said, his voice stern but not unkind.  "I would like you to feel comfortable to look at me in the face.  You are certainly allowed to do so, you are aware of that, correct?"

"I was not, your majesty."

"Look at me in the face," he said patiently.

Rose looked up slowly, meeting his dark eyes.  They were soft but unfathomable, as though he carried the weight of a world and not just a country in his depths.  He smiled a little.  "Now, that is much better.  We are not exactly equals, Rose, but that does not mean I do not respect you, or anyone else who serves under me in this castle.  Is that understood?"

She found that she was having quite a bit of trouble looking away from his eyes, now that she was looking into them, and she nodded. "Yes, your majesty."

"Good.  Now, you must be famished. Go now, and have something to eat."

"Yes, your majesty."

"Thank you, Rose," Jack said, smiling brightly at Rose.  "You are truly a very fine cook."

The King looked over at Jack with surprise, and glanced at his plate.  "You waste no time."

"Nor would you if you were eating this food, my lord," Jack teased.  "You should most definitely begin your feast, it is quite wonderful."

The King laughed, a sound that flew through the room in a cheerful sort of manner.  He raised his goblet, full of wine. "To a very fine meal and a man with no patience."  The men all laughed and saluted each other with their glasses and set about to chatting again.  The King nodded at Rose and she curtsied again, bowing her head, and took her tray right out of the room with scarce a glance behind her. 

"See?" Donna said cheerfully as the heavy door shut behind them. "He is very kind."

Yes, Rose had to agree.  That he was.

When they returned to the kitchen, there were other people serving each other their dinners that Rose had left out on the counter.  They were introduced as Harold, stable boy, and the rest of them, Sarah Jane, Amelia, and Martha, who were all in her wing of the palace and she would be seeing the most of. 

"So, you are the new cook?" Amelia beamed.  "Absolutely wonderful.  Go on, now, you and Donna should have some as well, then!" 

Rose smiled and served Donna before herself and the others praised Rose, except for Harold, who was a very brooding man.  But even he admitted, on a very brooding grumble, that the chicken she had cooked was very good. 

The bread they ate was very nearly stale, but of course, food was food, and the servants were not about to complain.  Rose had to admit as well that she was not terribly missing her old home, uncomfortable so she was.  

Donna took Rose back to her room that night, after several hours playing wager games in the servant's quarters, and chatted about the cleaning that everyone would be doing tomorrow.  Rose would be gathering up some of the harvest of vegetables for the kitchen. It would have to be done before the winter chill set in, which was fast approaching. 

Donna bid her goodnight on a yawn, for she had had a much longer day than Rose, but once Rose put on her night shift and the noise from outside quieted down, she lit a candle that was by the door, and sneaked back out into the corridors of the castle, in the dead of the night.  She had some exploring to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Rose reasoned, in her own mind, that since she was going to be living here, that she had a right to look around. She was no lady, she didn't have slippers or a dressing gown, but she had a ratty coat and her shoes, and so she wore those when she slipped out into the night.  

It was dark, but not terribly so.  Enough that she could see by. She went down to the kitchen, the first place she remembered, and lit a candle for her to go about and be able to see everything.  She walked around for a little bit, trying to remember how to get back and out to her bedroom. 

She heard faint music coming from somewhere, and found it in herself to creep along, to snoop up to where the music was coming from.  She was quiet, her footsteps soundless against the stone floor, intentionally quiet, and she crept up on the door that was cracked open, enough room for her to peer in. 

She held the candle away from herself so she could look into the room.  It was a well lit library that made her breath hitch. She had never seen a room so beautiful, and it startled her very much.  There was a rug, rich and red, a tapestry from the wall, and plush places to sit.  There were so many books that she couldn't even think!  She had a basic understanding on how to read, the Chestertons had made sure of that, but she had a feeling that she would not be able to read the books in this library. 

"You're dismissed, Harold," The King's voice said firmly, and the violin music she had been hearing stopped abruptly and she moved from the door, backing up against the wall and in a panic, blew the candle out.  The door opened, covering her, and Harold strode out, looking most put out that he had to even be in that room with the King. Rose couldn't understand that. She had enjoyed talking to him and thought that he was very nice indeed. 

He wasn't a cruel King, nor cold. He was a beautiful man, really.  She blinked. Where, exactly, had that thought come from?  It was really a shame that she wasn't feeling guilty about it, though.  What she was feeling guilty about, however, was that she was not missing the Chestertons.  She frowned.  Perhaps she was really only pretending to miss them, because she had been with them for so long.  Maybe she had found that it was time for her to leave, and everyone leaves home in the end, even if it is not a true home, not really, for that was never her home.  

She did not have a home. That was why she did not miss the Chestertons.  She sniffed and tilted her chin up, distracted by her own thoughts for only a  moment, before she heard a gentle sigh from inside the library and the flip of a page. 

The King sounded, dare she say it, bored.  Completely bored. Like he had never done anything more boring than sit still. 

Or was he sad?  She crept back to her spot after Harold disappeared, and looked into the door.  He was sitting there, in a deep red dressing gown, sitting on the couch, a thick, leather bound book in his hand.  He licked his finger and flipped another page. 

She knew she should not be watching him, and that was not the reason that she had set out to explore, at any rate.  She had just wanted to look around, not spy on the King. But he was very mysterious, very intriguing. 

"Rose, if you are going to creep around out there, you might as well creep around in here and clean the shelves for me," he said coolly, and she blushed at being caught.

She held the candle down at her side and slid in through the door, her head bowed. "I am sorry," She said softly, "I should not have intruded on you.  It was really very, very indecent of me and-"

A warm chuckle cut her off and she wanted to look up at him but found she could not.  

"It is perfectly normal for you to be wondering what your new home looks like," he said, "For this will be your new home, after all.  I trust you could not sleep?  You did go to bed rather late yesterday."

"Yes, your Majesty, I suppose I did," she said, "I still should not have intruded."

"Pah," he said eloquently. "Could you clean the shelves, though, while you are in here?" he sighed, "And would you please look at me when I speak to you?"

Rose lifted her eyes slowly, as he sounded very exasperated with the whole thing.  He had one eyebrow cocked and he was staring into her, almost as though he was looking through her.  She laced her fingers together in front of her around the candle and winced at the intense look in his eyes. 

"I should go to bed."

"You should clean the shelves," he said, "I think if you should be awake, you should be doing something.  You will be getting acquainted with the library as well, if you do that."

"Yes, your Majesty," she agreed quietly, walking behind the couch he sat on.

"Give me the candle, I will take it back when I am done."

Rose furrowed her brows.  That was certainly not his job.  She frowned and dropped her candle in her coat pocket and watched him.  "I can not," she said softly, "Let you do my job for me."

He smiled at her, as though this was the correct answer. "Very good," He said softly, his voice low and rumbling.  "I shall not disturb you."

"Nor I you," she replied. 

She went all the way behind him, then, and picked up a rag the Harold must have discarded, perhaps it was used to clean his bow, and she began to use it to clean the shelves.  Rose tried her best to be thorough on the shelves she could reach, where she could touch.  

The King did not move from his seat while she worked, did not even look back at her, for all the many times that she turned around to look at him.  It was unsettling, to be so close to the King.  And he was _very close,_ his back to her, almost as though he trusted her.  

He had no reason to trust her.  She was useless, a mere servant, and brand new, at that.  She could be planning something about the whole time and he would never know because he had decided to simply trust her in his library with her.  

She had heard that Kings were simply cold and did their jobs, but King John did not seem that way. He was kind, very kind, even though he was firm.  That was alright, she supposed, he had a right to be stern.  It was his whole approach to his rule, of course.  It had to be. If he was not firm, why would anyone listen to them?

She walked about in a quiet way, doing her job very gently, doing exactly as she had been told. She did not want him to get anything to complain about her.  That was not something she wanted, especially on her first day living in his home. 

But it was not a home, not to her, it was a bloody _castle,_ and how could anyone live comfortably in a castle?  She could not pretend to understand, and after many quiet minutes of each of them pretending that the other did not exist, the King shut his book and got to his feet.  

"Now, then, I think it is time that both of us retired, don't you think?"

Rose turned, rag still in hand, and nodded slowly, knowing better than to refuse the master of the house, especially when that master of the house was the King of bloody Scotland. She inwardly winced as the curse word went through her head, but that accent did horrible things to her. 

"Yes, your Majesty, you are definitely correct," she agreed, folding up the rag just to give her hands something to do. 

He smiled softly and shoved his hands into his dressing gown pockets, still holding his chin up high.  The smile that had lit his face fell as he looked her over.  "Is that truly your coat?" He asked, "The only thing for you to wear in the winter?"

Rose nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty, this is all that I received."

"In your life?"

She regarded him curiously, "Yes, your Majesty," she said, "I received this when I turned fifteen."

"And how old are you now?"

"Twenty years of age, your Majesty."

He shook his head. "And where did you get the coat?"

"It was given to me by the mistress of the Chesterton house.  She was finished with it, and it was very kind of her to give it to m-"

"No," he held up his hand. "It was kind for _them._ Kindness for me is something else entirely. I was not in jest when I said that you would receive more things from me, clothes that fit you and will keep you through the year."

"I cannot ask you to do that," she said bashfully.

"I am not asking," he replied sternly. "I am telling you how it is going to be. I am going to buy you clothes and you are going to get rid of your old ones, the ones that are falling apart."  he stepped forward and fingered the sleeve of her coat.  "Pitiful," he said, "As kind a family as the Chestertons are, they should be ashamed of themselves."

"They were very good to me." 

"Not as good as you will be treated here," he replied, "You will not want for basic needs, Rose, and with an excellent cook as you are, you will not want for a good meal, either."

She smiled. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I would expect that you enjoyed your meal, then?"

"Very much so," he agreed, smiling back at her.  His eyes lit up when he smiled like that and she found that she was forced to take a step back from him, lowering her eyes once more as her cheeks burned for a very unexplained reason.  She did not understand why her heart was pounding her in chest.  She shifted her weight on her feet. 

"Thank you, your Majesty, for your kindness towards me," Rose said softly. 

"It is my pleasure, Rose," he said lowly.  She closed her eyes for a moment and raised them to him again. 

"I must be going," she said, "I think that I should retire now."

"Yes, I do too, I believe you have a breakfast to prepare tomorrow."

She nodded. "Of course," she said softly, "I will see to it, Your Majesty, that it is the best breakfast that you have ever had."

"Well, I certainly look forward to it, then," he said.  "I should walk you to your room."

"Oh, no, your Majesty, I have already intruded on you too much."

"Nonsense. You are my responsibility, now that you live in my home. I will go on and walk you back anyway.  It is the gentlemanly thing to do, you know."

She knew that it would not work to refuse him anymore and nodded tiredly. "Of course," she said.  "Thank you."

"I expect that you would get lost anyway. You are a long way from where you should be," he said, "I do not know if you realize just how large the castle is."

"No, I suppose I do not."

He walked before her, and she let him keep a stride in front, because of his title and also because he knew where he was going.  He did not speak, and so neither did she, knowing full well the 'speak when spoken to' line.  She was used to hearing it, and knew to abide by it.  He seemed to reach her bedroom faster than she had gone when she had wandered straight to him, including a quick stop for her to drop off her candle with a blush.  

She felt a little embarrassed about the whole situation, really, but she knew that it wasn't anything that could be remedied now. 

When they reached her door, he opened it for her and she stepped inside, just over the threshold, and curtsied deeply.  

He did not bow, simply clasped his hands behind his back and nodded for her to rise.  "Goodnight," he said, "I trust this will not bother your sleep?"

"No, your Majesty. I trust I did not hinder yours."

"No," he said, "It does not.  On the morrow," he turned on his heel and started to walk away.

"On the morrow." She replied quietly.  She then shut her door and pressed her hand up against her forehead.  Now, she was being ridiculous.  She would never set foot outside her room after dark ever again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intentionally historically inaccurate because I really want Rose to cook unbelievablely good meals.

Rose woke early, considering how late that she had retired to her bed.  And escorted there by the very King of Scotland, no less!  Now that was something that she still found she could not believe.

She was cold when she awoke, though, and she had to wonder if perhaps the winter months were seeping in before they were planned to.  Despite wishing that the King did not fuss over her, she had to admit that she was fond of the idea of having warm clothes.  That would be unlike anything she had ever experienced before.  Clothes not handed down to her, bought specifically for her to wear. 

For now, though, she put on another old ratty dress and pinned her hair up, tying a white kerchief around her head and heading out the door.  Donna was down the hallway and Rose caught up with her.  

"Are you ready to prepare your first breakfast for the palace?" Donna asked cheerfully.

Rose nodded. "I supposed that I was going to have to cook for more people.  I was surprised to find that that is not the case.  There are more servants than nobility here."

"I am certain you know all about how the King's family died?" Donna asked lowly, as though someone would be watching and crawling out from the woodwork to see what was happening, what she and Donna were discussing.

It took Rose a moment, but she finally nodded.  "I believe so.  They died in battle."

"His _parents_ died in battle," Donna corrected, "He had a sister, you know.  She became a prisinor of war when she was fourteen, and his Majesty was eighteen.  She was killed, and he never forgave himself.  As a result, he lets very few people close to him, allows very few beyond these walls."

Rose looked over at Donna curiously, "But he let me in."

Donna made a sound of agreement. "You did not bother him.  He said that you would work well for the palace.  The Chestertons spoke highly of you, though it was clear that they did not want to be rid of you."

"Well, no, I can not believe that they did."  Rose responded thoughtfully, lacing her fingers together in front of her.  "I can not say I miss them, either.  I think I only missed what was familiar."

"Most people do, servant or not," Donna agreed.  "This is a very different place then you were raised in, my dear.  Now!  Let us get to cracking eggs."

Harold stumbled in to let them know that the King wanted his food personally delivered from now on, and Rose felt her heart jump.  Why would he want that?  There was certainly no call for it, after all. She was nothing special, and he had known Donna for years and years.  All of a sudden, though, he wanted her, well, the both of them, to bring him all his meals.  When Harold announced this, she found herself smoothing out her dress and apron, as though that was going to make a difference to their disheveled disappearances. 

Donna noticed this behavior, but she said nothing. Of course, Rose would be infatuated with the King. It was practically the duty of all young women to be as such.  But she had heard them speaking as they passed her bed chambers the night before, which was an oddity.  There was no reason for the King to walk her to her bed chambers, but it seemed that he had done just that. 

Rose looked up at Harold and nodded.  "Thank you," She said primly, "You can tell the King that it will be about ten minutes until we are ready to serve him."

Harold nodded and disappeared from the room.  Rose went back to her pan and began to cook the eggs, only hoping that they could make up something that the King would like.  He had far more ingredients than the Chestertons had had.  She could make sausage, though it took a bit longer than she had expected.  She put the plates on trays and set up more food for Donna to cook for the servants while she carried out the food to the King and Jack and the other knights.  

When she entered the room, she curtsied, with no hands of course, as none were free, and moved towards the table.  The King clapped his hands together once upon her entering. 

"Rose, go on and set one tray at each end of the table.  We will take care of things.'

"Yes, your Majesty," Rose replied, and did as he asked, as the rest of them talked quietly among themselves.  It seemed that the King saw his men as equals.  A gentle laughter rippled through them and Rose realized she hadn't been paying attention to their conversation, which was most likely the most appropriate response.  She was lucky that he was allowing her in the room to serve him at all.  

After several moments, she wrapped back around to the front of the table and dipped herself into a low curtsy, her hands free to spread out in the more respectufl gesture, before she rose again. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Majesty?"

She allowed herself to look into his face, and his eyes twinkled as he smiled at her.  He shook his head. "No, Rose, I believe that will be all. Thank you."

His voice and his accent rumbled through her in a way that was so pleasing she could hardly begin to understand it, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. So she imply smiled back and walked from the room, not having much else to say, and knowing that even if she did, as a servant, she would not be allowed to say it.  

****  
Later that day, Rose went out to the gardens to look around and see what she could pick that would be fresh for the kitchens. She picked up a basket and began to wind through the paths that led to the gardens. She had been given instructions on how to reach there and had an idea that she was going the right way. What she did not expect was footsteps behind her, and for the footsteps behind her to be that of the king's.

He smiled when she turned, his hands clasped behind them. "Drop your basket," he said, "For we are going to fetch you some clothes."

Rose blinked, "I am.... Your Majesty, do you go out among the common people?" She asked, shocked.

The King smiled, "Well, of course, they do not know that I am the King." He held up a finger, which was empty of any rings.  He took off the piece over his tunic, with a gold seal on it, and underneath was a plain brown tunic, matching the dark knickers and hose that he wore.  He donned a black cloak that had been over his shoulders and pulled the hood up over his head.  "I wear no jewelry, they do not see me as the same person that is in all of the portraits of the King that they see.  The only thing they will see is someone who perhaps looks vaguely like the King.  Now, will you continue to insist that I am too kind, or will you come with me so you can dress properly for the cold ahead?"

Rose blushed. He had caught on to her, certainly.  She nodded. "Yes, your Majesty.  It would be foolish of me to refuse."

"Oh, you are not allowed to refuse," he waved her off, and took the basket from her arm, throwing it to the side. "Someone else will pick it up.  Come with me."

"Can I not drop it off in the palace on our way?" Rose cocked an eyebrow. "I can not leave a mess for someone else to clean."

The King smiled and Rose realized that he had tested her yet again.  He gestured to the basket and she picked it up once more, nodding graciously to him.  She smiled back at him and she followed him down from the path and towards the palace once more.  He led her through and instructed Jack to be their escort.  He would follow from afar and ride in the carriage with them as they traveled down.  The driver of their carriage was to leave them slightly outside the city, so that they would be inconspicuous when they traveled inside. 

They all climbed into the carriage and the King sat across from Jack and Rose, and a bit higher up at that.  Though he was right, he looked much less the King without his royal garb.  He looked about and pretty much everywhere but at the two servants. 

"You have permission to speak as we travel," he said smoothly, "You will not get along if neither of you know each other, do you not agree?"

"Of course, your majesty." Jack nodded.  "Rose, I hear you come from the Chesterton Estate?"

Rose nodded. "Yes, I do," she admitted, feeling more and more like she wasn't as fortunate as she thought in living in that household.  "I lived there since I was young," she said.  "After my father died."

"I am sorry for your loss," Jack said solemnly.

"Do not be. I knew him not, for I was too young."

The King's interest seemed to be piqued at this, and he turned his eyes to her, but she did not look back at him. She did not want him to worry about how her father had died, or their debt.  That was ridiculous.  It was none of his concern, how she grew up, and what sort of things happened to her before she came to be in his possession.  For that's what she was, after all, a possession.  After looking at him, though, she could not quite bring herself to mind. 

They got to the city and the King stared at Rose until she looked at him. "You are going to call me 'John'," he said, and it was not a request. She nodded, and he continued, "You must, and you cannot call me the King, by any means.  Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

She blushed, the color reaching down to her chest. "Yes, John," she said softly, almost so softly that even Jack could barely hear it.

The King nodded tersely. "It's a start, I think you will find you will get used to it over the course of the trip.  Jack, my good man, seek out any trinket you want," he tossed him a little pouch of gold, "I only told them you were coming with me so that they would let me go."

"You do not actually wish for me to follow, my King?" Jack asked, surprised.

"No. I would like to be left alone." 

The King got out of the car and helped Rose out.  She was a bit wobbly on her feet but found that she managed it quite well.  She nodded to him, thanking him without saying any name, whichever name he gave her to use. 

He jerked his head and led her, without touching her, into the town.  He pulled his hood tighter around himself and she watched him, but could only see the (frankly beautiful) angle of his nose around the hood.  

Money was no object, of course, and he called her by her name often, but she was careful to never use his name. Even though he had given her permission, it felt wrong, somehow. It was not her name to use.  He was not her husband or her brother, or anyone else that could be called their proper name by her.  He bought her finery after finery, long lovely dresses and new aprons and pinafores, a new pair of boots.  She was in awe of all of this and could scarcely believe that she was getting so lucky.  These clothes were easily worth her father's debt, and after he bought her new undergarments, much to her embarrassment, he led her to a final shop.  It sold fine coats and thick blankets.  

"Every other servant in the house has a fine coat and a thick blanket for the winter, save for you.  Now, which color would you like? Brown, or black?"

Rose bit her nail. She had never been given a choice. "Whatever pleases his Majesty," she said, whispering so quietly that no one could have possibly heard.  

"No," he said softly, his hand resting on her upper back, between her shoulder blades.  "Which would you like to wear as a coat?"

Rose finally gestured at the black wool.  "The black one," she said softly, feeling giddy at the option of choosing what she _liked,_ what she _wanted_.  "Thank you," she whispered.

He rubbed his hand up and down her back once before dropping it to his side. "It is my pleasure, Rose, of course."

She found that she had never been quite so giddy in her entire life.  The King looked at her with a softness that she would not have expected from  a monarch.  He was kind and gentle and was giving her so much.  How could he even think to buy her all these things?  To throw money around for a servant?

Rose looked into the sky. "It is well past noon.  I will have missed cooking lunch."

"They will manage, and I expect you will make up for it with a fantastic dinner."

Rose nodded and blushed softly.  She felt as though she was on the edge of something but what? She could not pretend to know.


	5. Chapter 5

The King ordered her to get rid of all of her old clothes the moment she got back to the palace.  She looked at him, shocked, as though she could not fathom such a thing as getting rid of things that were still serviceable. 

He smiled at her kindly.  "Rose, I do believe that those clothes are useless to you.  I have purchased many _new_ things for you.  Your clothes have served you well, but you have better ones now."

"Of course, you are right, your Majesty," Rose said, wringing a piece of her dress in her hands.  "I am grateful of course, I have just never thrown anything away that can still be used."

The King took the piece of dress that she had been twisting into his hand, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.  "This can not even be used, not even as a rag.  You deserve better, and you are getting better."  

She was carrying the packages, they were her things after all, and she was a servant, there was no need for the King to carry them. She adjusted them in her grip and waited for him to give her something to do, tell her where he wanted her to go.  

He was quiet for a moment, appraising her, and he finally nodded. "Come with me.  I want you to change."

"Your Majesty?"

"I do not wish for you to be about in those clothes.  It presents you, and me, by extension, in a poor light. That is not what I wish for you."  It was not a request, for her to change, right now.  Perhaps not right here, but right _now._

It was not hard for them to find an inn that would let them in, once they recognized the King (and were then sworn to secrecy) and he took the packages from her.  He handed one off the top to her.  "Go on," he said, nodding.  "This nice gentleman here will give you a room and discard your old clothing."

Rose nodded, still feeling quite in shock, and followed the innkeeper to a tiny room for her to change in.  She could tell that a million questions sat upon his tongue, but he asked none of them, and for that she was grateful. There was precious little she knew about her situation, she would not be able to answer the questions honestly or confidently. 

She changed into the green dress that the King had handed her. It was the color of dried moss and fell to her ankles, as any proper servant's dress would, with her boots lacing up underneath to hide any bits of her that should not be seen.  She had also donned her new undergarments under the dress and tied a white apron over top of it. She left her hair as it was, seeing no need to change it, and turned to look into the small mirror that was hung in the room. 

What she saw took her breath away. The dress did not pull or sag in any places, instead clinging to her shoulders and waist, but was not so to be labeled as promiscuous. She smoothed her hands over the cotton, quite surprised to see herself this way, and twisted this way and that to look at herself from all angles.  She really felt that she looked rather attractive, which was another notion she had not even begun to consider. 

Not wanting to keep the King waiting, she slipped from the room, holding the old clothes in her arms.  The innkeeper took them from her and smiled at her, as though he was trying to get on her good side so perhaps she would give him a bit of gossip as to why the King was lurking about in the town.  

Rose stood before the King, who had pulled his hood back up over his head, and tapped one toe on the floor behind her other foot in a mock curtsy, trying to show him respect even when he did not demand to be respected. 

He looked her up and down, his dark eyes appraising her for a moment, and he finally nodded slowly, smiling.  He had a beautiful smile, she noticed, his eyes crinkling into crow's feet that did not make him look old, but instead, kind.  It also seemed like he had taken his time in looking at her, as though making sure he had bought what was correct.  Based on what she had seen in the mirror, she certainly assumed that he had. He handed her packages back to her and her heart sunk a bit as he did not say anything about her appearance.  She realized that she was foolish to think that he would've said anything at all.  There was no reason for him to, after all.  He was the King, and she was just a young girl.  A girl who was very useless, aside from the usefulness that came automatically from being a servant. 

"Come, now," he said, jerking his head and walking forward out of the inn, saying in no uncertain terms that if she did not come after him, she would get lost.  So she tagged along with him, keeping as close as she could with her clothes held to her chest.  

She felt a bit better about herself, walking around in these clothes.  The King seemed to have a little more excitement in his step which was odd to her, as his stance never changed, but perhaps it was the moments that he had, like now, where he was a free man, not the King of Scotland.  She wondered if he noticed her accent, how it differed from his, as she was English.  It was not the posh accent of the ladies of England, but rough and left out certain words or syllables.  But, even with all that, he had no trouble understanding her. The thought made her slightly happy.  

The King must have known that Jack would have been back at the carriage, as when they got to where they had been left, he was there. He looked at Rose and smiled widely. 

"Rose, you look positively lovely," Jack said enthusiastically, throwing her a wink.

She blushed and looked down as he took her packages and loaded them onto the carriage. "Thank you for your kindness," she said softly, wringing her hands once more, but not her dress, of course, she shouldn't wring her new dress.  

"It is not simply kindness if I give it freely and with purpose," Jack said. 

"That is quite enough out of you, Jack," the King said smoothly, but there was a smile in his voice.

"Come now, your Majesty, I would not dare to think of it!"

"Oh, you certainly would. Kindly stop."

Jack beamed and looked back at Rose.  "He deems most thoughts I have impure."

The King looked back over to Rose as Jack opened the carriage door. "That is because most thoughts that fly through this man's head are impure.  In the carriage, now," he said, climbing in.  Rose followed with Jack, and they sat on their lower side of the carriage, Rose's fingers laced together and laying neatly in her lap.  

"What shall you do when winter strikes, Rose?  There will be less fresh food, mostly meets."

"If there is ice," Rose said slowly, "We can store vegetables for longer on it.  Not by much, but there are some things that should keep for a long time.  And we will have to eat bread."

"We always eat bread."

"Well, it must be a substitute then, instead of just another part of the dish," Rose said, twiddling her thumbs.  "I can not imagine that it will be difficult."

"Have you done so?" The King asked abruptly.  "Put food on ice?"

"Yes," Rose nodded, "When I was with the Chestertons there were many things that we froze.  It makes it take longer to cook things, but that seems to turn out just fine in the end, if you do not mind eating a bit later."

The King sniffed and nodded, and once more appeared disinterested. Rose fell silent then, sensing that perhaps he wanted her and Jack to stop talking so that he could think, or whatever it was Kings did when they weren't brooding or ruling or being kind and buying their servants too many new clothes.  She was still quite baffled by that, after all.  

When they arrived back at the palace, Rose and Donna cooked dinner and served it before returning to the kitchen and eating the stew that Rose had made for the servants.  People filtered in and out, picking up their dinner and eating with them for a few moments before walking off, trying to do two things at once. 

Rose slipped herself up onto the counter and held her wooden bowl in her hands, taking care not to spill anything. She grinned down at Donna and took a bite.  Donna cocked an eyebrow at Rose's happy mood.

"Well, what has got you so excited, my dear?" She asked, smiling back at the other girl.

Rose shrugged. "Did you not notice my new dress?"

"I certainly did. I knew the King planned to buy things for you."

"And he did.  It was... Rather nice. I have never had someone spend money on me before."  She looked down at the dress. "The dresses he bought me should last for about four years at least."

"You shan't need them that far in the future," Donna replied, "He will buy you new clothing every two years.  It grows cold and windy much of the time in Scotland and it is of the utmost importance to him that we stay warm and healthy."

Rose nodded.  "That is very kind of him. I truly do not think there is another man like him in the world."

"I should hope not. I do not think that the world would have money left if there were many men all as generous as King John," she smiled.  "But he seems very fond of you. I have no doubt that you will do well here."

Harold rushed in then, panting for breath. "The King requests wine and the company of Rose."

Rose blinked. "Whatever for?"

"I cannot pretend to know," Harold shook his head and then rolled his eyes, "The King simply demanded it of me, don't you know.  Go on, then, hop to!  Go!"

Rose hurried to pour a large goblet of wine.  She sipped it, as was customary, to make sure that it was not poisoned, even in a sealed container.  After waiting about three minutes she looked at Donna with surprise. "What could he possibly want my company for?" She asked anxiously.

"I cannot pretend to know," Donna mimicked, "But you'd best go, and then tell me all about it."

Rose nodded.  "Of course."

She walked off then, the goblet held on a tray.  "Alright, then," she mumbled to herself.  "Best hop to, like he said."

She could not explain why her heart was pounding in her chest, as there was no reason for it to do so, but it was, and the shaking of her hand shook the goblet on its tray.  She went on, knowing that she didn't know exactly where he was but had an idea. The only place that they had been together was the library, so of course, that was very likely to be the room that he planned to be in. 

She walked slowly, trying to calm herself down.  When she reached the library, she chanced a knock on the door.  It opened slowly, and the King stood there, back in his royal finery and looking quite intimidating, as was the usual.  He nodded to her and she curtsied, bowing her head. 

"Raise you up," he said, and walked away from the door.  She frowned at his back. This was so odd.  She could not imagine why he would need to speak to her at all. He turned over his shoulder and she quickly put her face back into a neutral expression.

He arched a brow at her. "Come on now," he said. "Come inside."

She swallowed hard, hoping against hope that he could not see her nervousness, and stepped into the door, her foot crossing the threshold into the library, leaving her and the King alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Rose stood shakily before him, wondering if he had somehow found his dinner unsatisfactory and was bringing her in to tell her so.  How would he even dismiss her?  Would he have her killed?  He'd seemed so kind... Surely not.  

She wanted to wring her hands, as she normally did when she was anxious, but she only had one hand and she really couldn't do that.  Instead, she curled her toes into her boots, trying to find a substitute.  

The King was still staring her, from the couple steps back, but still, staring at her, looking at her as though he was waiting for her to say something.  Of course, Rose knew that she should not speak unless spoken to, so she waited. She wondered if he was testing her, testing her nervousness.  

He smiled and gestured to the couch in the center of the library. Rose felt her eyes widen.  He did not expect her to sit before him, surely.  She shook her head slightly, feeling fear creep into her very bones.  She couldn't say anything about it, she really couldn't. She could not open her mouth before he did.

"I would like for you to sit," he said curtly, gesturing again, more impatient this time. 

"Not before you, your Majesty," She said softly.  She felt her heart slamming against her ribs.  

"I am requested you do so," The King said, "In fact, I am demanding it."

Rose blushed darkly and stepped forwards, beyond the King, and set down the tray with the goblet on the small table in front of the couch.  She sat slowly, in the corner of the seat, trying not to take up very much space. 

The King sat next to her, with about a foot of distance between them.  "Alright, then, now that we have that settled."  he turned to her, "I suppose you must be wondering why on Earth I have called you into my presence."

She bit her lip and chanced a nod.  "Yes, your Majesty, I am a bit curious."

"You are uneducated," he said bluntly, "And yet you are a cook."

She looked down at her hands, which now settled firmly in her lap.  "Yes, your Majesty, I am."

"It is not meant to be an insult," the King said, shifting towards her, knees facing her.  "But I feel I must educate you on one thing."

Her eyes drifted to the tray.  "The wine?" She asked softly. 

"Yes," he replied.  "I wanted you to taste this.  It can also be... Well, it can be a celebration of you living here now. I hope for this to be a better life for you."

Rose finally lifted her eyes to meet him and smiled slightly.  "Do you really want to waste fine wine on me?"

He frowned.  "It is not a waste.  Why would you begin to think that it is a waste?"

She was confused by that.  Of course, why _wouldn't_ it be a waste? She was a waste of space, after all.  "Well, of course, I am but a servant," she said, watching him carefully. 

"That does not make you any less of a person. In some respects, it makes you more.'  He lifted the goblet from the tray and lifted it between them. "Wine must be aged, Rose.  Do you understand that?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

"And we have a Vineyard."

"You do?"

"Yes. Would you like to learn to make wine?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

He nodded.  "Very good. I will have a master teach you, so you can begin to prepare new wine barrels.  I think you would be quite good at it, since you are so good with the preparation of meals for the whole of the palace."

"Thank you, your Majesty."

"You are very welcome."  He lifted the goblet a bit higher.  "Place your hands over mine.  There is a place, over the mountain, where I am from, where the drinking of an alcoholic beverage is the most symbolic thing that can come about."

"Where is that, your Majesty?"

"It is a place called Gallifrey," he said softly.  "Gone now, and now I am here."

Rose nodded slowly.  "I am sorry that you lost your home, Your Majesty."

"I am not, Rose.  I think you should simply indulge yourself in this part of culture.  Now, place your hands over mine," he repeated, slower, as if she had not heard him the first time. 

She watched his eyes carefully and she slid her hands up over her, her fingers curling around his first knuckles.  His skin was warm in contrast to the cool of the goblet, and she felt her own breath hitch.  He was so _close,_ and she was fairly certain that a man had never been this close to her in her whole life.

He tilted the goblet towards her.  "Take a sip, now, tell me what it tastes like. Close your eyes," he whispered.  Rose let her mouth fall open and her eyes flutter shut as both of them guided the goblet to her lips and she took a sip.  She had never had wine before, even though she had, of course, heard all about it.  She almost chased the goblet when the King used their joined hands to pull it back, but refrained, just barely. 

"What does it taste like?" he murmured, "I do not want to hear about the taste of the actual wine."

It took her a moment to understand what he meant, but after several moments, her eyes opened and she realized that she was even closer than he was before.  She could practically feel his breath on her skin, his eyes boring into hers.  They looked ancient and fathomless, and she did not know quite how to handle being so close to him. 

Finally, she grasped his question, and she blinked, mostly in surprise that she had been like this.  She probably seemed so stupid to him.  She looked down into the cup. "I think it tastes like summer," she said. "It's warm and rich."

The King pulled her hands, along with the cup, to his lips, and he took a sip from it, not closing his eyes, but instead making eye contact with her.  "Do you know which wine you chose?" He asked after the goblet moved back and she realized that she had just shared a goblet with the King. 

"No, I simply chose one," she admitted, "As I said, I know very little about wine."

"You chose well," the King said.  "Tell me what spices have been incorporated in it."

"You put spices in wine?"

"An age-old Gallifreyan tradition.  Tell me."

They sipped the wine, each taking turns as Rose suggested what she thought was in the wine.  The King would either murmur his assent or ask her to try again, which she would, readily. It occurred to her that perhaps there was a reason she was starting to feel a bit tipsy, which would explain why his eyes looked less focused then they were, the brown steel that they were.  

They were closer than was probably appropriate on the couch, and Rose took the last sip of wine out of the (deeper than they had expected) goblet.  The King removed it and put it on the table, back on the tray.  He returned to her side then, so close to her that she could barely remember how to breathe. 

"I chose you," he said softly.

"The Chestertons told me that you had chosen me because they had told you I was a very good worker."

His eyes flicked down to her mouth and then back to her eyes.  "That is only part of the reason why I chose you." 

She shifted in her seat, feeling uncomfortable, but not in a way that made her want to run from the room.  If anything, she was intrigued, and wanted to be closer.  Their shoulders were parallel now, and she bit her lip, watching him closely.  She felt a bit drunk, more so than she had just a bit into the wine.  The King seemed to be affected by it as well and she wondered if she should leave.  

She could not make herself leave.  Instead, she regarded him carefully and murmured, "Why else did you choose me?"

He swallowed hard, and she was close enough that she could hear it.  It made her heart flutter over a beat that it probably should have taken.  She looked at him, waiting for him to answer.  He cleared his throat and removed the crown he wore on his head and set it on the table carefully.  He moved back to her, breathing harder. 

"I heard that you were a kind soul," he said softly, "I heard that you were wonderful. I heard that you were beautiful."

"You are the King."

"I am."

"You cannot find a servant beautiful, your Majesty," she turned away from him, blushing again, and this time it spread down to her chest.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his eyes snap down to there.  That only made the stain on her skin show up brighter, and now she was well and proper embarrassed.  And for some reason, feeling very warm.

He breathed out a rough sigh.  "But I do."  He leaned towards her, nose almost brushing her skin.  "Rose."

She turned her head to face him without moving her body. He moved back slightly, allowing her the space he assumed that she wanted.  Little did he know, or perhaps he did know, that she wanted him closer, much closer, and could not have that.  She did not even know _how_ to have that.  

"Your Majesty."

He grimaced and recoiled.  "I hate that title."

She shifted so her body faced him once more and she stared at him.  "Why? Why would you hate to be the most powerful man in Scotland?"

"Because I cannot have anything that I wish to have."

"Your Majesty, pardon me, but I do believe that you could have _anything_ that you wanted," she protested, as the alcohol had loosened her tongue a good amount.  Therefore, she could not bring herself to regret any of it.  Every word that passed her lips was the honest truth, and it seemed that it was rather the case with him as well.  After all, he had called her beautiful, and would certainly not have said as such if they had not been drinking the wine.  She could still taste the warm, spicy drink on her lips.  She wondered if she would be able to taste it on his.

She licked her lips and looked down at his mouth.  It was tempting, the sin of kissing him, when she knew that she should not. 

"I can not have everything," he said in response to a comment that Rose had entirely forgotten that she had made.  "They want me to be married.  I do not wish that."

"You are King.  Tell them that you do not want to be married."

"If only it were that simple, Rose."

"It is," she said earnestly, "Your Majesty, it is. It _can_ be."

He raised his hand and framed the side of her face in his hand.  "You are beautiful." he said, as though in awe, and as though he was forgetting the conversation that they had already had.  His eyes searched her in a way that she could not understand and was not sure she ever could. 

"I am a servant," she reminded him. 

"Yes," he said, "But none the less, beautiful," he leaned closer to her, his fringe brushing her forehead.  She tilted her chin slightly, getting closer to him, one hand coming up to grasp his arm.  At the touch, she felt a jolt of something akin to power running through her.  She breathed out a sigh and watched him open and close his mouth before pulling back from her.  He seemed to be reigning himself in, conflict warring in his eyes. 

"Your Majesty," She said carefully, trying to make sure neither of them did something that they regretted... Or that _he_ would regret, more specifically.  She knew that nothing that happened with a man like him, she could be able to regret.  His hand did not move from her face, but after a moment, he did pull away, and stared at his palm as though it had revolted against him. 

"I think it is time we retired," she said, standing and gathering the tray and goblet, doing so quite shakily, as she was feeling _very_ tipsy. 

"You are right," the King said briskly, picking up his crown and put it on his head.  "I will see you on the morrow then?"

"Of course, your Majesty."  She said. 

He stood and stayed before her for a moment, running his hand along her cheek before tucking an errant piece of hair behind her ear.  "Goodnight, Rose."

She murmured a goodnight and then beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen to drop off her dishes.  She leaned on the counter, the world spinning around her.  She really did not know if she would recover from a night like this.


	7. Chapter 7

The King did not speak to her for several days after their encounter in the library, and Rose could hardly blame him.  She was not surprised by this: they had both been drinking and she had woken the day after their time together with a pounding headache.  The alcohol had surely taken them under, doing something to both of them to make them say and do things that they had not meant to say or do.  Of course he never meant to touch her.  Why would he?

She had decided not to berate herself for it.  It had been just as much his fault at hers.  But, she could not change what had happened and she was not sure that she wanted to.  Although, she was sure that he would wish that nothing had ever happened.  

Donna did not ask her about that night in the library, why the King had requested her presence, and Rose could not find it in her to tell her anything, even if she was the closest thing to a 'friend' that Rose had at the palace.

It was massive, and she spent plenty of time exploring, looking around and cleaning wherever she went, just to make sure she was doing something.  The other servants caught up with her every once in awhile and Rose found that she was much more comfortable with the people here than the ones at the Chestertons.  Even though she liked them very much, and had enjoyed living with them, it was something very different to be here, in the palace of the King of Scotland, and not seeing the King at all. 

She missed seeing him, she found.  It was odd not to see him, after she had seen him so frequently her first few days.  She found herself wondering what he was doing or if he was missing the time they had spent together as well.  He said that he had thought she was beautiful, even though she was a servant.  She wrung her hands as she stood in the library one day, finishing cleaning the shelves.  Those shelves were full of books, books she wished she would or could read someday.  She gazed wistfully up at them and shook her head, returning back to the kitchen. 

"The King left a message with us," Donna said as she was bustling about, cleaning dishes. 

"And what is that?" Rose asked, ignoring the jump of her heart at the mention of the King. She was going to need to get these feelings under control. 

Donna turned over her shoulder.  "He wants you to be in charge of the Christmas ball. It is fast approaching, you know."

"I did not know," Rose replied, stepping further into the kitchen.  "And what am I to prepare?"

"Everything that you can think of," Donna said, "Pastries, meats, vegetables.  Breads..." She lifted a shoulder.  "The most food you have ever made.  The nobility from all around is invited, and even some people that are not nobility.  It's quite the party really, but the King barely makes an appearance."

Rose furrowed her brows. "And why not?" She asked, "Is it not his party?"

"Oh, of course it is," Martha nodded from where she was, preparing the vegetables for a soup she was making.  "But he does not enjoy parties as well as a King should, really."

Rose nodded.  "Well, he wants me to be in _charge?_ I can not say that I expected that from him."

"He thinks very highly of you," Martha replied.

This confused Rose more than anything else that Martha had said and she turned sharply. "What?  Did he say something to you?"

Martha nodded.  "Since you have been too busy to take his meals in, I have been doing it," she said. 

Unbidden, Rose felt a hot wave of jealousy surge through her.  How _dare_ this other woman take him his meals?  Martha was beautiful and charming and the very thought of her being around the King made Rose want to wring her hands.  She refrained though, keeping the anxiety at bay.  The King did not belong to her anyway.  He never would.  She was surprised that she felt so strongly for the man.  Was it because he bought her things?  Or the way he had talked to her that night in the library, calling her beautiful, his voice low and rumbling.  She shivered at the very memory.

"And... And what did he say?"

"He asked me if you were well," Martha replied, "If you liked where you were living and your accomodations."

"What did you tell him, then?"

"I told him that you seemed happy and that I was fairly certain that you would have said something if you felt otherwise."

Rose felt her lip twitch. "Well, you would have been correct.  I have no objections to my conditions here."

"Mm.  He wishes for you to begin bringing his meals again, starting tonight. Now come now, we must fix dinner."

"Where is Donna?"

"She is busy with other tasks, as you have been," Martha said gently.  She smiled at her front and jerked her head.  "Come on, then!"

Rose laughed and they got to work fixing the King's meal.  

It felt as though time had slowed as she neared the dining room, large silver tray in hand. Her heart was pounding, and she felt as though she could hear it along with the blood rushing in her ears.  She had to hold the tray with both hands to keep it from shaking.  She walked there, though, managing it barely, and knocked on the heavy door for the first time in several days. 

"You may enter," his voice, the heavy tenor she had grown so accustomed to, rang through her, settling deep in her chest, where it belonged.  She sighed heavily and pushed the door open. 

"Rose!" Jack said happily, smiling at her happily.  Rose regarded him with a bright smile of her own and dipped into a curtsy.  The King looked up and smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the sides, dancing.  

"Hello, Rose," the King said. 

"Your Majesty."

"I am sorry that you have been so busy these past few days," The King said, softly, watching her response. 

She nodded and looked away from him for a moment and then turned back to him.  "Yes, I am a bit... Taxed.  I have many duties, you understand, Your Majesty?"

He looked at her, searching her, as though seeing if she was lying or not.  His mouth set into a thin line.  "I do.  However, you must understand that bringing the meals is _your_ job now, not Martha's.  Is that understood?"

Rose colored deeply and looked down at her feet. "Yes, your Majesty, I am sorry that I thought anything different."

"Quite alight.  Now let us see what you have prepared for us tonight."

Rose served the food, still blushing darkly at the King's almost admonishment. With his avoidance of her in the castle, when he used to run into her so frequently, she had thought that he would want to be far away from her.  Of course, she would have understood, but she had to berate herself for how childish she was to stay away from her daily duties. 

The King, Jack, and the knights that sat about the table murmured quietly to each other as they began to eat, and Rose dipped into a hasty curtsy and tried to hurry from the room, but a call from Jack halted her.

"Rose, you look very lovely in your new clothing."

She turned back, smiling softly.  "Thank you," she said quietly, sliding the tray under her arm and looking down at the pretty grey dress she was wearing. "I am very grateful to you, your Majesty.  For your kindness in buying me the clothing."

"You are quite welcome. They fit you quite well."  The King looked at her.  "Have you had a chance to wear your coat yet?"

"No, your Majesty, I have not," Rose replied.  "When I was outside, it was not quite cold enough to wear it."

"Well, I would like for you to wear it before the coldest months set in, so I can see that it fits you properly. Jack and I will meet you at the front gate of the palace in three hours."

It was not a request, and of course, Rose understood that. She nodded and dipped her head to them before rushing from the room. She had forgotten how beautiful he was, how gorgeous his eyes were, how smooth his voice.  His kindness spoke volumes and although Rose was fond of Jack, she wished that he were not coming. 

Besides, why did he need to see her at all about her coat? She was sure it was fine, much better than the ratty old things that she wore before she was here, of course.  She wanted to tell him that, to beg him off, but she wanted him close as well and found that she could not leave a situation in which she would see him. 

She cleaned up from dinner with Martha and Donna, who was exceptionally chatty about a stable boy named Lee who she was really quite fond of.  After those three hours, she was at the front gate of the palace, her coat on firmly and she marveled at how comfortable it was, and how warm.

The King strode from the palace and Jack hung back, his hands behind his back as a bodyguard.  The King approached her and she fell into a very low curtsy. He grasped her by her arm and pulled her gently back up, shaking his head. 

"I know not why you drop to the ground every time you lay your eyes upon me," he said softly.

"You are the King, your Majesty," Rose replied.

The King rubbed his fingers over the part of the coat that his hand had been on. "Are you cold?"

"Not at all."

"Very good. I plan to send you on errands this winter when we require things, I thought perhaps we would make sure you would be comfortable doing so."

"I am very comfortable, your Majesty," she reassured him, "I have never had a garment this thick to wear in the winter, you know."

"I do know," the King's jaw was set firmly, a dimple sticking out in his cheek.  "You should have though, and I am quite furious for you not having something proper to wear in the winter months."

Rose lowered her eyes. "It is hardly your fault, your Majesty."

He hummed in the back of his throat. "I trust you have gotten the news that I wish you to be at the head of my Christmas ball."

"Yes," she replied, "I was told of this."

"And do you accept?"

Deep down, she knew it was not a request, so she swallowed hard and nodded, feeling like she was doing that a lot lately. "Yes, your Majesty, I accept."

"Very good," he waved Jack off, who put a fist to his chest and bowed before exiting, back into the castle.  The King jerked his head off towards a second drive that led to the flower gardens.  Rose followed him, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her new coat. 

"You have been avoiding me," he said.

Rose's head snapped up and she looked at him, her eyebrows raised. "Your Majesty, begging your pardon, but it is no secret that you are avoiding me as well."

He looked at her, his eyes wide with surprise. "You are a wise girl."

Her gaze turned from him, to the flowers that were growing ever closer. "I am not wise.  I simply know what I see... And what I do not see."

The King's face turned stoic, as though he did not want her to see what he was thinking. "I do apologize, for speaking to you the way I did that night in the library.  i fear that it was a horrible idea for me to... Share wine with you."

Rose made a non committal sound in the back of her throat.  "I accept your apology, but... I am not sorry," she said, her voice full of purpose.

"I expect that you will not stay away from me now?"

"I should be asking you that, your Majesty," Rose replied.

"I will not lay a hand on you," He said. 

"Pity," she said, turning to smile at him. 

He seemed a bit shocked but he laughed, a rich sound that she would love to listen to forever, if he would let her.  He shook his head and turned to look at her again. "I find that you might be the most remarkable woman I have ever known," he said, his eyes watching hers carefully.

She blushed and turned away from him, dark lashes touching her cheeks briefly before she looked at the flowers before them. The had come to a stop, and she wasn't sure when it had happened. "Well," she said, "I aim to please, your Majesty."


	8. Chapter 8

In the following months, the King no longer avoided Rose, as they had, in a way, sorted things out.  Of course, they never drank wine together again, as apparently it lessened their inhibitions too much.  Although, he did take her as a close personal servant, and in addition to cooking all his meals, she worked very closely with Jack. She never did any work such as shining his boots or polishing his crown. She finally asked him what the point of sitting in throne room with him was. 

He had narrowed his eyes at her, as though he could not quite believe that she had asked such a question, and said, "You will do no demeaning work."  With that, he ordered Jack to polish the silverware.  

She did spend lots of time in the throne room, at his side, because he said she was uneducated and should listen to things that he and the advisers talk about. Quite honestly, she tuned much of it out.  One day it was quite quiet and the King was reading a thick volume.  She realized, with the chill in the air, that it was quite time she begin planning for the Christmas ball.  The decorating was not up to her, but she wanted to make sure that the food was positively perfect.  The way the King put his faith in her made her want to make sure that it was up to his expectations.  She stood before him in a powder blue dress and curtsied, staying there, her head bowed, hoping to get his attention. 

He finally looked up and shifted his weight, setting his book in his lap. "Raise you up." He said, "What is it, Rose?"

"Forgive me, your Majesty, but Donna and I must begin the planning of the Christmas ball.  Certainly you understand?"

He sighed.  "Of course," he said, "On the other hand, I could do without a Christmas ball this year."

"No, you could not, my King!" Jack said dramatically, hand over his heart. "Then when would the women ogle you?"

The King blushed, as though he had never heard a phrase quite so vulgar. "Not in front of the lady, Jack."

"I am sure Rose does not mind."

"I am sure Rose knows nothing about ogling," Rose said, shooting Jack a look.  "But certainly, you must have a ball. From what Martha, Sarah Jane, and Donna have told me, it is quite the event and even the servants enjoy it."

The King seemed to think on this for a moment and watched her carefully. "Well," he said, "And did Amy have anything to say?"

She thought it was rather impressive that he remembered the names of all of his servants, and she shrugged, smiling.  "She said she doesn't care for it."

The King barked out a laugh. "She would say that!" he said cheerfully.  "Well, then, Rose, you are dismissed."

"Thank you, your Majesty."

"So, you are glad to be rid of me?" He asked teasingly. He was not the stoic man she had met so long ago, and though she was not complaining, she was certainly wondering where he had gone, and who this man in his place was. 

"Certainly not!" She sputtered, coloring deeply, and hurrying from the room. She missed the knowing look that Jack shot the King, and the King missed it because he was already buried in the pages of his book once more. 

****

"You spend much time with our good king now," Donna observed as she prepared some meat to be dried out for the feast before the ball. 

"Yes," Rose said carefully.  "He often requests my presence in the throne room. He says that I am not educated enough for someone my age."

"Or, he finds himself infatuated," Amy sang as she entered the room with a basket full of some of the last crops from the year.  "He does look at you often as well."

Rose shook her head. "No, of course he does not," She said adamantly. "He is a King, and I think you all forget yourselves!  I am sure he has spent time with many of you as well."

"Certainly not!"  Donna scoffed. Martha made a noise of agreement.  

Rose furrowed her brows in confusion. "I am new.... To the palace. He is probably just trying to decide if he wants to be rid of me or not."

"Oh, he is certainly not going to be rid of you," Amy waggled her eyebrows.

"He has not been married yet," Martha piped up, "Perhaps he is now stalling because of you, Rose."

Rose shook her head. "Many Kings have affairs. If he felt any sort of want for me, which he does not," she pointed around the room, "He could keep me on and still have a wife, a _queen."_

"I promise you, King John is not that sort of man," Donna said.  "He is too pure for all that.  Far too pure.  He simply does not want to be married."

"Yes," Amy admitted, "We cannot pretend that we _know_ it is because of you." She grinned at the others. "But it is much more fun to think of it that way. 

Rose rolled her eyes as the other girls giggled and ducked her head, getting back to work.

***

That night, she took a walk out in the gardens, to ensure that all the crops that the servants could pick were harvested.  She had her coat wrapped around her, her hands shoved into her sleeves, a basket hanging on the crook of her elbow.  She had her socks rolled up so that they covered as much of her leg as possible and she found herself wishing that she could wear trousers. 

She heard footsteps behind her and turned around quickly, her eyes blown wide with fear.  It was the King, wearing a black cloak, the hood drawn up over his head.  He held up a hand to silence her and she tensed her jaw, making sure no sound came from her mouth. 

"They do not know that I have left," he said softly, putting his finger to his lips for a moment. She nodded, watching him intently. 

She looked around, and gestured at the crops.  "I... I was making sure that everything was in order."

"The carrots will surely shrivel up and die if not for you," he said solemnly, and she giggled. He looked up at the window of the palace and took her by the arm. "Let us leave here," he said softly.  

She felt a rush of adrenaline and he pulled her towards the woods on the edge of the palace.  She dropped her basket and followed him, unable to refuse him, not even wanting to if she did have the choice.    

His hood fell and his hair was wild and his eyes were bright, and it suddenly occurred to her that this was what he was really like, who he really was.  This exciting man, that was him. This was the King of Scotland, and he was bloody perfect.

"What was that for?" She asked breathlessly. 

"Someone might see," he whispered. 

"And why is that a problem?" She asked, matching his tone. 

He looked over his shoulder. "Because then they'll tuck me in and make me say goodnight."

"Aren't you the King?" She asked him. 

He stepped a bit closer to her, not releasing her arm. "You would think, wouldn't you?"

"I do."

"Yes, I suppose you do."

"How did you know I was out here?" she asked, lost in his eyes.  It was a phrase she had heard the other servants talk of when they saw someone particularly attractive at the market, but she had not believed in it.  Now, though... He was taking her in, drawing her close without tugging on her arm at all. 

"I saw you through my bedroom window," he said lowly, "I wished to know what you were up to."

"And now you know."

"And now I know," he affirmed. 

She bit her lip. "I... I do not know how to respond to this," she said. 

"You are quite incredible," he told her, "I have.... Spent much time with you, as of late."

"Yes, you have.  I was there as well," she teased, as their relationship allowed for this, but only slightly. 

He smiled at her, his eyes sparkling.  "Yes,' he said, "You were."

They watched each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to say something next.  Rose knew that there was something that the King _wanted_ to say, and so she raised her eyebrows, trying to get him to speak first. 

He finally blew out his cheeks, but did not take his eyes off of her.  "I should not be spending this much time with you."

"And yet here you are."

"I cannot seem to stay away."  he said simply, "I should not have chosen you, when I heard of you and took you from the Chestertons."

"I am treated much better here," she hastened to remind him.

"I know you are. I see to it," he said firmly, searching her. "I want you to have the best life, but that is not necessarily something that I should want."

"Do you not want the best life for all of your servants?"

"Of course I do," he said, and he stepped closer to her, his other hand coming up to her other arm.  "But I want even better for you."

She tilted her chin up to look him in the eye, now that he was closer.  Much closer. Painfully closer.  She licked her lips and watched him carefully.  "And why is that?"

His eyes darkened further in the dark.  "Rose, I think you know why."

"Your Majesty-"

"I will not marry." 

She jolted and blinked. "Wh-what?"

"I can not.  The advisers want to set me up to be married at the Christmas ball. I do not... I can not... Not with you so..." he let out a sigh and tipped his forehead onto hers.  It was the first time he had touched her in such a way since the night in the library, that was practically a lifetime ago. She let her eyes fall shut and fell into him. 

"My King, I do not know-"

"John," he said roughly. "When it is you and me, the two of us, you call me John."

She shivered at the implications of his words. They had had a playful friendship, as appropriate as possible in the presence of others, the only slip occurring when they sipped too much.  His nose now brushed hers and she could feel his breath against hers, warm in contrast to the cold of the winter air around them.  Somehow, she had forgotten it was cold. She pulled her hands out and set them on his shoulders, feeling closer to him than ever.  Perhaps this was how they were supposed to be.  

"Rose." He said softly, "Say it.   _Please."_

She was afraid that this would somehow find a way to hurt her in the end.  After a few moments of agonizing, clear silence, she opened her mouth and breathed out, "John."

He groaned and pushed her, and she dropped her hands, fearing that he was pushing her away from him, but her back collided with a tree and his hands fell to her waist, pulling her against him.  Her breath hitched and she replaced her hands where they had been just before he leaned down and kissed her. 

It was harsh, demanding, and she was having trouble keeping up, but she managed, her hands coming to cup his cheeks.  Her blood sang, and he gasped into her mouth, pressing closer, her back digging into the tree but protected by the coat, the coat that _he_ had purchased for her. 

For a moment, he was not the King of Scotland. He was John, kissing not a servant, but simply Rose, a girl who deserved more than the world gave to her.  And he continued to kiss her, but slowed it down, keeping the intensity but now worshiping her mouth.  She could cry, for she had never felt so appreciated in her life. 

He broke away from her mouth and they both panted for breath.  He gulped in a few breaths before pulling at her coat and latching his mouth onto her neck.  She tilted her head back against the bark of the tree and lifted her leg when he grappled for it with one hand, wanting to get closer to her.  

After he seemed to sense that she had caught enough breath, he pulled his face up to be even with hers.  His eyes were practically black and boring into hers. 

"Tell me to stop," he said hoarsely.  "Tell me to stop and I'll leave you alone."

She tightened her leg around him. "Do not leave me alone."

He kissed her again, and they stayed pressed together until there was a rustling in the woods a little bit away from them.  He pulled away and tugged her behind the tree, his arms wrapped around her from behind so his dark cloak covered her. 

"Your Majesty," Jack called out into the woods.  "No, my lord, I think he has gone for another midnight wander."

"Ah, _fine._ As long as he is home by morning, we have nothing to worry about. Let us go."

The two men left, grumbling a bit to themselves, and the King breathed a sigh of relief against the back of Rose's neck, falling next to her to sit, looking her in the eyes. 

"I think that is our cue to retire," he said softly. 

She felt her heart sink, but she knew he was right.  She nodded. "Of course."

He cupped her cheek and leaned forward, giving her a chaste kiss.  "May I walk you back to your chambers tonight?"

She nodded. "Of course." he cocked an eyebrow at her and she blushed, looking away from him before she murmured, "John."

Oh, now this brought a whole new meaning to a royal affair.


	9. Chapter 9

He walked her back to her chambers, his hand very carefully situated on her back.  She kept stealing glances at him, at his noble profile, the chiseled lines of his nose and jaw.  Finally, they made it to her room, and she turned so she was facing him, her back to the door. 

"Would you like to come inside?" She asked softly.  

His eyes darkened and his jaw loosened as he almost tried to cry out.  He nodded slowly.  "I... I would, Rose, but I don't think..." he blushed, looking away from her, "The walls are thin."

She colored as well but she did not look away from him.  "Oh," She said, trying not to make it feel like a rejection. The King's gaze snapped back to her, his eyes wide and he shook his head quite wildly. 

"It is not that I don't want to," he said urgently.  "I just do not think now is the time." he stepped forward and cupped her cheek in his hand. "You are too special, Rose.  Too special for something quick and meaningless."

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, and turned into his touch.  "I am not worthy of anything better." She admitted. 

He kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and leaned down to capture her lips for a moment before pulling back and regarding her seriously.  "You are worthy of more than the world has seen fit to give you," he told her.  "You must remember that.  Goodnight, Rose."

She smiled up at him, her heart filling with something she was afraid to name, didn't dare to.  She reached her hand out to lay on his chest and said, rather quietly, "Goodnight, John."

A shiver ran through him, and she wondered why her voice saying his name had such a strong effect on him. It made her feel powerful, that she could bring out an emotion in such a powerful man, a man who was supposedly untouched by regular human thoughts.  It would appear that that was not so, and she wished to explore that area of thought further.  He bent down and kissed her softly again before disappearing down the corridor, getting out of sight so no one would suspect why he was in the servants' quarters.

***

After that very night, Rose worked extra hard on the banquet then, and she was careful to make everything perfect. She tested every recipe, making Donna and Martha taste her creations before she put them on the list to make them for the ball.  

The King tried to visit her, but he never touched her as he had that night, with too many people around, and it frustrated her to no end.  She found herself balling her hands into fists whenever she was in the throne room with him, trying not to reach out for him.  She had a feeling Jack had noticed the new development, but if he did, he wasn't saying a word.  It was only a day when she was writing down a new recipe in the throne room when the advisers began talking about something that made her stomach roll. 

"My King, I think you know our intentions for the Christmas ball."

"Yes, I do," the King said, leaning back in his chair and regarding the men carefully.  "I think you also know my response to such an idea?"

One of the advisers cleared his throat and shifted his weight from side to side, as though uncomfortable but unsure as to how to broach the subject.  "Well," he said, "I am aware that you are not fond of the idea, but perhaps a Queen is a topic that you shall consider."

"Am I considering, or are you telling?" 

"Well, your parents would've wanted-"

"For me to be happy," he cut them off, giving them all stern glares.  They had the good sense to look bashful as he continued, "And if I am not happy with a single of the women who are filled with teachings of nobility and propriety, than why should I marry them?  Why should any of them become queen?"

Jack, who looked rather uncomfortable, rubbed the back of his neck.  "My lords, I think you forget yourselves, or at the very least, you forget who your King is.  It is not _you,_ after all.  It is our good King John."

"We are aware of that, Captain Harkness," one of the advisers snapped, "And I think you will find that you are not the King either."

"Perhaps not, but I, at the very least, respect his wishes," Jack replied, leveling them all with a glance.  He looked at Rose for a moment, who looked back down at her work, a flush spreading down to her chest. 

She could feel the King staring at her, and she had to wonder what he was thinking, if he was thinking about her, or if he was thinking about anything at all.  His eyes bored into the side of her head and she finally lifted her gaze to him.  He gave her a reassuring smile and she returned it before ducking her head back to her work.  His look had given her a flutter in her stomach that made her feel slightly giddy and she was unsure what to do about it. It wasn't like she could lean over and snog him, like she wanted to.  She could see that he wanted it too, very much, in his eyes and in the way he licked his lips.  

After a few moments of the manly talk, she got up and dismissed herself with a polite curtsy, before disappearing from the throne room and back to the sanctity of the kitchen.  Martha asked her why she was blushing and Rose shook her head.  The comment only made her blush deeper.  

The King came by to taste test some of her options for the ball that night, when Donna was the only other servant in the room. He came in, and adjusted his crown on his head before glancing around the kitchen. 

"You both keep the kitchen very well kept," he said, his arms across his chest.  "I would like to see what you have for me."

"We have roast duck, steamed vegetables, and a sampling of a cake of Rose's creation," Donna said, gesturing to the table where they had laid the items out.

"And there is no waste with this, I take it," the King phrased it as a question but it was certainly not one.  

"No," Rose said, shaking her head, "No waste.  Anything you do not eat here we will give to the other servants."

"I expect you both to eat with me," he said, cocking his eyebrow at them. The both of them curtsied and bustled about, serving him up a plate of the duck, vegetables, and a generous slice of cake. He pulled up a stool to the counter and sat down.  Rose set a goblet of wine before him and his gaze lingered on it, as though he was remembering the first night that things had started to slip between them. 

Rose stood in front of him next to Donna on the other side of the counter. He eyed them both carefully.  They looked nervous, had their own small plates in front of them, holding minimal food.  He frowned but assumed that was how they wanted it, or at the very least, it was what they were used to in terms of eating.  

Although he would never say it, he wished for Rose above all that she would receive fine, seven course meals, to fill her with the luxury of a full stomach.  He sighed, a little, to himself, and took a bite of the duck. He looked up into Rose's face. She looked worried, her fingers twisting around themselves in what looked to be concern. 

"It's excellent," he said honestly, "I do not quite understand why the advisers wanted me to see if everything was going well when it is so clear that the two of you are above adequate when it comes to cooking."

"Rose has many wonderful pastries and such planned," Donna said hastily.  "We will have you try those to make sure they are to your liking of course, but-"

"There will be no need," he said firmly. "I believe that both of you are to be trusted with this assignment, and you can do a brilliant job of it," he looked at Rose when he said this, and she smiled, daring to feel a bit of pride in her work.

He tasted the vegetables and cake and they found a way to relax enough to eat with him.  Rose wished for anything, despite how much she liked Donna, that the other woman was not there. She had never _shared_ a meal with John, as she called him in her mind now, and it was quite exhilarating to feel, for just a moment, that they were equals. 

Of course, as any good King did, he led them in conversation, but he tried not to direct too many questions at Rose.  As much as he wanted to learn about Rose, e knew that it would do him no good to make Donna suspicious. It was not that she was a gossip, as such... Except that she rather was.  With the other servants, at least. And then things would certainly get back to Rose and it would not be pleasant from there.  

No, he needed to keep this as quiet as possible. He wanted to have Rose to himself for as long as possible, even though he didn't think it would be possible for that time period to be too long.  He wanted to pretend that she was his princess, that they could properly be together, even if he knew that such a thing would never be allowed. 

Her laughter touched him in a way that he didn't think he had ever been touched before, and it sent a shock through him.  He was quite fond of the girl, that was no secret.  But he was nearing an unhealthy infatuation.  It seemed, though, with her frequent glances his way, that she was harboring similar feelings and he was not feeling all of that all alone.  

Donna, for once, was oblivious, or at least pretending to be, as they shared their meal.  Once they had finished, he rose to his feet and dabbed the corner of his mouth with the napkin. "Thank you," he said, "I appreciate you sharing your creations with me.  But now I trust you to do so without me," he said gently. "I bid you both good night."

"Good night, my King," the both replied, and he found that he detested those words falling from Rose's lips.  The way she said his name was becoming something quite special to him, after all, and if he could keep her saying it, than he certainly would.

The moment he left the room Rose began cleaning up in a hurry and Donna chased her around the table.

"So, what was that all about?" She asked, elbowing the other girl in the ribs.

Rose met her eyes, though she was fairly certain she was shaking a bit. "I cannot pretend to know what you are speaking of."

"I have never, and I mean _never,_ my dear Rose, seen that man look at a woman the same way he just looked at you," she said, grinning.  "You are very special."

"I am a servant," she said softly, "I am nothing more."

Donna smiled, the look peaceful and gentle on her face. Rose was young, and perhaps did not understand quite what was happening, but Donna did, and she saw the way the two of them looked at each other.  She had tried not to raise their suspicions as they had eaten, but it was impossible not to notice.

"Keep that up, my dear, and you will become his whole world."

"The advisers want him to marry at the Christmas ball.  Even if they did not choose someone for him there, he would not have a servant." And with that, she stalked off, not wanting to hear another word of this. 

Now, that gave Donna an idea for the ages.  Chewing her bottom lip and thinking quite seriously to herself, she left the kitchen as well.  It was about time that dear Rose had something of a...  Fairy godmother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .........In my defense of this cheesy trope, I did say Cinderella elements in the tag :)


	10. Chapter 10

Rose did not mean to pine for the ball, but the more she prepared about it and Amy and Sarah Jane gossiped about the guest list, the more she longed to be a part of it. 

"It's really quite the event, and there is always drama," Donna said, waggling her eyebrows. "It is really quite the treat, after all."

Rose smiled tightly, "Well, it certainly seems like it would be a lot of fun."

"It is," Amy said cheerfully.  

She tried not to be upset about it, about what was happening around her.  She had not seen the King in several days and it was making her a bit peeved. She did not let that affect her work, however, as she was really never supposed to do that, but it was hard to focus when all she could think about was how much she wanted to see him again. 

It was common knowledge that he had tried to come to the kitchen to visit her but he never seemed to make it.  She had seen Jack many a time, and he told her reluctantly that the throne room was off limits to her as the advisers were discussing nuptials.  She felt her heart twist and her stomach clench and she lowered her head, feeling a bit dejected. 

Jack crooked his finger under her chin and tilted her face towards his. His eyes searched hers, his brows drawn together in worry.  "I am sure it means nothing to him, Rose.  He has not slept in days. You should go to him."

Rose furrowed her brows. "How would I go to him?" She asked. 

"To his chambers," Jack said.

Rose stared at him. "I would never make it there without being caught and detained," she said, crossing her arms.  Jack dropped his hand from her. 

"I guard his room tonight.  I think you should come to him tonight."

"I cannot even go to the Christmas ball because I am _cooking_ for it.  Of course, there is no way that he would want to spend any more time with me."

Jack frowned. "He has not slept.  He has bags under his eyes, and he slouches instead of sitting like a regal man. I think he misses you."

"He has not spoken of me."

"He has asked for you by name.  But they will not let you into the throne room."

Rose pursed her lips. "And how do you know of any of this?"

"I am not as oblivious as the rest of the palace," he said casually, "The way he looks at you is a way he has never looked at any princess or duchess.  Perhaps you should consider?" He gave her directions to his room, whether she liked it or not, and she sighed, saying she would think about it.

She could not pretend to anticipate what exactly was going on with the King.  She could not anticipate his reaction to her showing up in his room.  However, she was thinking about it, in fact, considering doing so, seeing the look of surprise on his face when she stood before him.  

It was a thought beyond her wildest fantasies, and she clenched her fists at her sides before she returned to the kitchen.  She was being foolish, of course.  How could she pretend that she did not want to go to him?

How could she assume that he wanted her to?

For the rest of the day, she found herself worrying about it, worrying about why she should do. Donna noticed her attitude but did not say anything.  She was tailoring something in her room that would be ready for Rose soon enough.  For now, though, it would be best not to say anything about it. 

Rose was taking control, and the other servants let them, for she was a natural born leader, and they fell quite easily under her command.  She was strong and independent; she had her own ideas and was not about to let any other person tell her otherwise. 

Today, though, she was distracted, and while Amy, Martha, and Sarah Jane were confused, Donna could easily say that she was not.  

"Are you taking the King his dinner tonight?" She asked casually.  "Do you think you'll stay more than a mere moment?"

Rose shot her a look.  "The King is a busy man," she replied easily, "And I am a rather busy woman, as of late."

"Well, you seem to dart out of there as fast as you can," Donna tried her best to sound nonchalant.  "Perhaps you will stay for a moment to chat tonight."

Rose huffed and set about the preparations of dinner, a thick stew for the servants, a fine steak for the King and his men.  The other women continued on decorations and preparations for the ball and Rose, once again, tried not to be jealous of all the women that would get to go.  

With Donna's words in her mind, she took the meal to the King. Even though she had been doing so, Donna was right, she had not been spending as much time in the dining hall as she had originally.  Perhaps it was the tense, pent up anger she felt at no one in particular because she had not seen the King at all.  She certainly hoped that that wasn't it.  It would be rude of her, if that was the case. 

She knocked on the door and the King called her in.  She entered and curtsied before walking in, and beginning to serve. 

"Rosie!" Jack cried with joy, "How are _you?"_

Rose laughed. "Fine, Jack, thank you," she replied politely.  She felt the King watching her every move, and when she looked at him, his eyes were dark and searching.  She swallowed hard and felt the blush staining her cheeks. Perhaps he would not be against her paying him a visit tonight. She felt her heart quicken at the thought. 

After she served them, she made to beat a hasty retreat, as the knights began talking about the throne room talk.  She saw the King give her a rather apologetic look and she nodded at him, hoping the look on her face was a sort of coy expression. His mouth quirked up on one side and she had a feeling that perhaps he had understood exactly what she meant. 

They prepared more for the ball until it was dark and they were all quite tired.  Rose bid them all goodnight and escaped to her chambers.  She changed into the long, cotton nightgown that the King had bought her, and the silk dressing gown that he had bartered for a low price.  It flowed out behind her and made her feel elegant.  She prepared herself as though she were going to sleep, her hair braided in a long twist over her shoulder.  

She examined herself in the tiny mirror she had, and nodded to herself, her heart beating so hard she was sure that she could hear it in her own mind.  She walked from the room barefoot, and followed the instructions that Jack had given her. She crept up first one flight of stairs, than another, and to a wing of the castle that she had never been to before, simply because there was no need.  

Jack stood at the end of the hall, and he smiled. "I do not know if he is asleep, but I am certain that he will not mind you awakening him."  

Rose looked away from him, embarrassment climbing up her chest.  She rubbed her hand up one arm. "I will... I can not..."  She laughed. "Are you going to let me in, or not?"

"He has three rooms. Pass through all three doors," Jack said in a hushed tone, and opened the door and bowed for her as she entered.  She found that the rooms were very lavish.  She opened the final door and saw the most beautiful bedroom she had ever seen. 

There was a red rug on the floor, a desk underneath a window, with papers and a quill and inkwell on it, and a massive canopy bed, the likes of which she could not pretend to know about.  

The King sat in the bed, not under the covers, with his ankles crossed and a book in his hands.  When she pressed her back against the door, shutting it, he looked up at her, looking very tired, but his eyes widened when he saw her properly. 

He scrambled off the bed, dropping his book to the covers. "Rose," he said, as though she was not right in front of him. She smiled and shifted uncomfortably on her feet. 

"Hello."

He walked forwards and took her in his arms, crushing her to him in a bruising hug that made all the breath whoosh out of her.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, sensing he was feeling hurt, and ran her hands through his hair, trying to comfort him.

"What's wrong?" She asked against his temple.

"I missed you," he said softly. "I hate this."  He pulled back to look at her in the face. "I hate that they want to marry me off."

She felt her eyes brimming with tears. "You need a Queen," she whispered. 

His hands clenched tighter on her waist. "No," he said simply, "No, I do not _need_ a Queen, I need..." he sighed, "Can you stay tonight?"

She blushed, stammering as she tried to accept while maintaining her sense of propriety.  His eyes widened as he started to realize what she meant. 

"No, no, that is not what I mean, I'm sorry, I should have said... I..." he let out a sigh. "I want to hold you," he said weakly, "I can't do thins alone.  Not anymore."

Rose nodded.  "Yes," She said gently, cupping his cheek. "I'll stay."

He breathed out a sigh of relief and pressed his forehead to hers.  "It's all they talk about," he whispered, pushing her dressing gown from her shoulders. She let it fall to the ground.  He leaned forward and kissed her softly, giving her time to pull away.  She brought her hand up into the back of his hair, holding him tightly there.  He breathed out a gentle sigh and traced his tongue along her bottom lip.  She clenched her hands and hauled him closer, and he fell into her, pressing her to the door and lifting her slightly.  

He pulled away and kissed his way down her neck, pulling down the collar of her dress to bite her collarbone. She let her head fall against the door and he picked her up, mouth still firmly attached to her neck.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, letting things escalate even though she knew full well that she shouldn't.  

He laid her down on the bed, kissing back up to her neck to hover over her.  "I am afraid to be without you," he said softly. 

"You are not without me."

His face screwed up painfully.  "They want me to be," he whispered, "They do not understand. How I feel for you." He braced himself up on one hand and cupped her cheek.  She turned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut.  

"I am...  I am sorry," he rolled off of her, "This is not why you came tonight."

"It's alright," she replied, and shifted to get under the covers.  He followed, clamoring under to be as close to her as possible.  He lay on his back and looked over at her expectantly. 

She had never shared a bed with another person before.  She tentatively moved towards him, so her front pressed against his side, and leaned down to kiss him.  He slid his hand up her back, letting her kiss him the way she wanted to.  He broke off the kiss slowly, and looked at her with an apologetic look. 

"I'm sorry, but I will not be able to stop if you continue to kiss me like that," he said, blushing a bit. 

She grinned at the very idea of having so much power over a man.  She lay down, cuddling up against him, and she let out a long, contended sigh.

He smiled.  "What?"

"I have never been this warm in a bed."

He felt his smile slip.  She deserved so much more than the life she had. She deserved to be in this warm bed every night, wrapped up in him. 

Jack knew to wake her before she would be missed in her own chambers.  He lamented that she could not lay in bed with him forever.


	11. Chapter 11

As it happened, Rose was not awakened by Jack before the morning light.  It was quite on purpose as well.  He wanted her to stay with him without having to slip out at the crack of dawn.  She swam up from sleep, feeling more comfortable and warm than she ever had when the weather was this cold. She rubbed her cheek over what she was laying on and snuffled a bit at the comfortable fabric.  She lifted herself up and saw that the King still lay sleeping, and his arms tightened around her when she tried to move.

She settled back against him, hoping to soothe him, and it seemed to work just find, as he sighed happily and turned his face into her hair, curling back around her.  They were tightly wound together, held together by a string stronger than fate.  His fingers dug into her sides and she was less than upset about it.  She wrapped her arms around him, wedging one awkwardly between him and the mattress, and scooted up a bit to press her nose into the crook of his neck.

Her eyes fell shut and she settled into a steady doze, not quite awake, not quite asleep, but something quite nice all the same. She had a bit of trouble keeping her mind quiet, although suddenly it happened that she fell asleep.

When she woke next, it was at least an hour later and she was quite content.  The King was humming softly, running his fingers through her hair.  She traced her fingers over his chest and smiled softly, feeling contentment running through her.

"What are you singing?" She asked softly.

"An old tune," he said, his voice rumbling against her cheek and in her ear.  "A very old song about love and loss."

"Sounds sad," she remarked. clenching her fingers in the fabric of his nightshirt.

"Not always," he replied. He paused, and then seemed to alert again. "Jack did not wake you. I expected he would, so you could go downstairs."

"Should I go?" She started to move away from him, pressing her palm against his chest for leverage, but he dragged her back on top of him.  "I can leave, " she said, "but I don't think I could get away without someone seeing-"

He tugged her again, so she was firmly on him, and shook his head. "No.  Don't go."

"Why would you-?"

"You're already here, aren't you?  You might as well just stay." He kissed her forehead and pulled back to look her in the eye.  "I'd like you to stay.  Please?"

Rose reached up to cup his face and stroked her thumb over the apple of his cheek.  "Alright, then, I shall stay."

He hesitated, than leaned in to kiss her properly.  She responded slowly, as she was still feeling a bit groggy, but he kept on, letting her take the lead.  He broke away from her several moments later, his eyes still closed.  He looked almost mesmerized by her, and what they had just done.  What they had unknowingly become.

"We should just stay here." he said softly, "All day."

She giggled. "I missed breakfast. They'll wonder where I've gone."

"I missed breakfast too."

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door.  "Your Majesty, are you alright?"

"Quite alright, thank you." The King called to the man beyond the door.  It was a man that Rose recognized by voice alone as one of his knights, since she did not know any of their names.

"You have been sleeping a long time."

The King absently trailed a finger over her back, and Rose's eyes fell shut as he said back, "Yes, I like sleeping quite a lot. I do not get to do it as much, as I will remind you."

The knight seemed a bit contrite when he replied, "Of course, my King, I apologize.  I was also sent to inform you that one of your servants is missing."

"Oh?" The King feigned disinterest. "Which one?"

"Rose.  The newest."

"Ah," the King tickled her and she covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh.  She squirmed away from him to the other side of the large bed and the King continued, "Well, I think she will be alright, don't you?  She seems to be quite the strong woman, and she spends many days in the garden."

"The garden is dead. It is winter."

"I promise you, she knows. You are dismissed."

The knight's footsteps walked away from the King's bedroom, and he sat up in bed, looking over at Rose, who was sprawled across the pillows, looking up at him. He brushed aside her hair and lifted a book from the table next to his bed.  "Read with me?" He asked.

She nodded, her fingers pressed against her lips.  He slouched down in the bed, pillows up his back to provide a comfortable position, and she shifted over to him, laying her head on his shoulder.

"What if we ran away?" he asked, his voice sounding far away, as he flipped through the pages of his book.

"We cannot run away," she told him, "You know that just as well as I."

"We could," he objected, "We could go, we could _run_ until no one could find us and no one would make me marry outside of what I want.  What I _need,_ Rose."

She sighed softly.  "You know it isn't."  She said, "This is your country, these are your people.  Don't you love them?"

"Of course I do," the King said softly, "I love my people, and I am... I can not... I do not want them to be without a leader.  But I do not want to live in this life without what I want."

She smiled at him, sensing his internal struggle. "I know that you do not wish to be in this situation.  I wish to not have it as well.  But it is here.  We must learn from it.  We must become... Better."

"When did you get so wise, Rose?" He asked, a gentle sigh following his words as he admired her.

She lifted a shoulder, rolling onto her stomach and resting her cheek in her hand so she could still look up at him.  "I have always been wise. I was raised to think for myself, or else no thinking would get done at all.  I believe, John, that you see more in me than anyone else has.  And I do not quite understand it, honestly."

He cocked an eyebrow.  "Your eyes," he said softly, "They see what no one in this kingdom sees. Your heart sees me for what I really am, a man and not just a king.  I can barely understand you, and your kindness.  But I want to.  I can not quite understand why, but I want to."

She pressed her thumb against her bottom lip.  "I should not be drawn to you," She confessed, "And yet I cannot stay away."

"I want to learn you," he whispered. "I like how my name leaves your lips.  No one has called me by my name, my given name, in _so_ long, Rose.  I could never find anyone who was worthy of it, really.  But you, Rose.  You are worthy of every thing that any one person could give you. And I want to give you everything."

Rose furrowed her brows and frowned. "I do not need everything," she replied, "I need happiness, and I need a bed at night and a warm meal for my dinner.  That is all."

"But you deserve more," he protested, "You deserve to be pampered at every turn."  He lowered his book so he was holding it with one hand and took hers in his other.  "Your hands should be softer than silk, not rough from work.  How did you come to this?"

Rose's brow drew deeper, creating deep wrinkles in her forehead. "They did not tell you about my father?  The Chestertons did not tell you about him?"

The King shook his head.  "No.  They did not."

She chewed her lip and looked away from him.  "Oh.  Well, he... was a good man.  He wanted to be an inventor," she smiled fondly at the vague memories.  I was seven when he died, seven when they took me.  He owed people so much money... He could not pay it back.  He was clever, but not clever enough to pay off his debt."

The King blanched.  "You were seven years of age?"

"Yes.  Why is that a matter of importance?"

He shrugged. "Because a young woman needs her mother."

"I did alright," she replied, watching him curiously. I have not seen her for many years."

"Would you like to?"

His question worried Rose. At what lengths would this man go to please her?  As it appeared, he was willing to go as far as he needed to, to take her back to her mother. Would he leave her there? Would he stay with her? Would she stay with him?  Unsure of what the correct response would be to his question, she said nothing for a few moments.

"I do not know," she said finally, quietly, "I have little recollection of her. I do not even know if she is still alive. It would be a waste of your time to search for her for me... John."

He did not react to her use of his name, as he often did, and leaned over to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Anything involving you could never be a waste of my time," he said lowly, "I fixate on what you want, what would please you. Would it please you if I found her?"

"And what would I do once I knew her again?" She asked.  "I could not stay with her, not now."

"She could stay with you."

Rose's cheat blossomed into warmth and she smiled. "You would want that? Suppose you were not fond of my mother."

"Something I am willing to overlook, for you." He said. "And your father, he died tragically? Suddenly, I take it?"

She nodded. There was no emotion from her voice when she spoke her words, as she had not known him for very long before he had been killed. "He was trampled by a horse. I knew him very little, I'm afraid."

"Oh, Rose," he shifted so she was tucked into his side, his book still in one hand. "Is it selfish of me to be happy for that? Otherwise, I would have never met you."

Rose smiled and pressed a kiss to his chest. "Not if I think of it the same way."

They lay quietly for a moment as he flipped through the pages, until he finally spoke.  "I am... I am sorry about your father.  I am sorry that had to happen to you."

"I do not remember him," she said, "Not really.  I think perhaps it is better that way, easier.  But I wonder about my mother."

"I could find her," he insisted.  "What is her name?"

She reached out and touched the page he was on, feeling the newness of the book.  He let her, as he would let her do practically anything she wanted if it meant that she would stay with him.  She seemed to be pondering what she should say about it.  "I-" She clamped her lips together and rubbed her cheek against his night shirt, cuddling closer to him.  "Her name is Jacqueline Tyler."

"That is your surname, then?" he asked.  "Rose Tyler."

"Yes."

"It suits you."

"You can not possibly... It is simply a name I no longer use."

"It is still your name," he protested. "Something that belongs to you."

"I wish to no longer talk of my past," she requested gently.  "Read to me, please?"

"Of course," he whispered, and he began to read the novel in a low, rumbling voice that made her feel safe as she let her eyes flutter closed.  

Much to the chagrin of the servants, (Though they did not know _exactly_ where Rose had gone) they did not leave the bed all day.


	12. Chapter 12

The only thing Rose received the next day, after her day with the King, were some odd looks from Martha and Donna, but that was about it.  She had been expecting much worse and let out a sigh of relief when no one asked about anything that she had been doing. 

But, as it had planned to do, the Christmas Ball came.  Rose found herself separated from the King the few days before that, as he was in yelling matches that he called 'meetings' with his advisers.  They were still trying to force him to marry, and though Rose was not supposed to, she listened at the door, trying not to wring her hands and be nervous, but there was nothing else for it, really. 

"I will not marry!" The King shouted, and she heard the sound that was unmistakably him slamming his fist on a wooden table.

"You must, my King!" 

"Well, he is the King, my lords," Jack's calm voice, the only calm voice, came from inside. "If he chooses not to marry, is that not his business?"

"It is also the business of the kingdom!" An adviser shouted.  "He must marry!  The people want answers, they want to know why our King hasn't married.  So you must choose at the Christmas ball, or we will choose for you."

"You cannot!  I forbid it!" The King was really riled now, truly rumpled, and Rose felt the urge to run to him instead of away from, which was something that tugged at her heart.  There was a quality in his voice that should have scared her, but it didn't.  It made her strong, like he would always be fighting for her and never against her. 

Jack cleared his throat. "I am afraid that the King must get ready for the festivities tonight, my lords.  Perhaps you will see fit to excuse us?"

The advisers grumbled but they had no choice but to dismiss the King. Rose ducked behind a thick door frame, listening to Jack and the King as they exited the room. 

"I don't want any of those ladies of the court, or any princess from across the sea," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. 

"I know you do not, my King," Jack said patiently.  "But what else can you do?"

"Can I not choose?" The King snapped.  "If I am being forced to marry, can I not choose who I will spend the rest of my life with?"

Jack let out a little sigh, as though he was tired of dealing with this situation.  "The people... They would not want you to marry anyone else if they knew you had been in bed with another woman."

"I was not _in bed_ with her, Jack, I was simply..." the King trailed off lamely and Rose felt her cheeks flush.  Nothing truly indecent had happened, of course, but the thought of doing so made heat rise to color her skin in a most embarrassing fashion. 

"In bed with her," Jack offered helpfully.  "What else?"

"Oh, Jack, that's not going to deter them from wanting me to marry.  That's all it is.  That's all... They want me to have a Queen but they don't care if I am happy, or if the kingdom is happy. Scotland should be ruled with a woman at my side who is kind and worthy of that position. I can not give it to just anyone.  

The two were silent for a few moments, and Jack opened his mouth to let out a confused sound. "I think you should consider the advisers' suggestions."  he said it slowly,a s though he knew what the answer of the King was going to be.

As predicted, the King exploded. "What?!  You can not be serious!" He shouted, and Rose heard him pacing nearly violently, "I do not want to choose my wife at the Christmas Ball!  i want to choose my wife on my terms, when I decide, if I decide at all!"

"We both know what you would decide, my King."

"Yes! We do!  But they will not _let_ me!  They will not even let me think of the things that I wish to think of.  I need to be..." he trailed off.  "I must prepare for the ball.  If Rose is not busy, send her up."

"You miss having her in the throne room with us."

"Of course I do," he said, quieter now than he had been.  "I am used to her being by my side and she is no longer there.   She can not even bring me my meals any more, for she is so busy with the Christmas Ball that either Martha or Donna does it.  We can not _speak._ Not like we used to when she was in my room."

Jack did not say anything for a few moments.  "I wish you could have her."

"Send her up, if she is not busy."  He said curtly.  He strode away and Rose slipped away, back to the kitchen, where Jack would expect her, before he could catch her spying.  She walked quite quickly, but she had just made it back to the kitchen when Jack entered.  

"Rose?" He called.  Rose turned around and looked at Jack with what she hoped was a blank expression, pretending she didn't know what he had come to talk with her about.  Jack exchanged a glance with a Donna, who raised one expressive eyebrow and mimed dancing behind Rose. Martha looked confused but Jack simply gave a single nod before returning his attention to Rose. 

She wiped her hands off on her apron.  "What can I do for you, Jack?" She asked softly. She could not help but think that she was destroying John's life. He could never marry her, but he could never _not_ marry. He needed a Queen, needed an heir, and she could be no Queen and give no heir.  She was not worthy of such an honor and she knew that full well. 

"The King requests your presence in his chambers.  He requires assistance with preparation for the Ball tonight."

Rose shook her head, her heart growing heavy with the motion.  "I do not believe that would be a good idea, Jack. I have lots of work to do.  We must prepare for the ball, the same as him, and I daresay that we have a bit more work to do than he."

Jack blinked and Donna's mouth dropped open. Neither of them were blind. They knew exactly how the King and Rose felt about each other, and they each wondered what Rose thought she was doing by refusing a blatant offer like the one she had been given. 

"I do not doubt you," Jack said, "I think Donna and Martha can cover this for a bit, though."

Rose shook her head. "I was already absent fetching some difficult to locate spices for far too long.  I should not neglect my duties any longer." she hesitated, as though realizing that that was a completely inconsistent thing to say, considering how eager she had been to go to be with him in the days prior.  "Send the King my deepest apologies and regrets, please.  He will see me serving tonight."

Jack raised his eyebrows.  "Rose," he said lowly, so that Martha could not hear, "He really wants to see you."

She bit back tears. "He knows where I am, Jack, and I have much work to do. Too much to do anything else at this particular moment in time.  Please.   _Please."_

Jack relented, sighing heavily. He knew she was right.  Despite the King's longing to see Rose, she still had work to do, and was seeing to it diligently, as any good servant should.  He forced a tight smile and said, "Well.  Well, I suppose I will relay the information of this conversation back to him," he clapped his hands together, "Keep in mind that some guests will wear masks, just because they feel it makes them mysterious.  Do not be frightened by them, and if you do not remember who they are, it is best to just smile and thank them for attending."

With that, Jack turned and left, regretting the news that he would have to give to the King regarding the one woman that it seemed he could not be without. 

Rose was a bit obsessed with the idea of the King. Not of the _King,_ really, not of the man of power, but of the man behind all that.  He had kind eyes and read to her in a rumbling tenor that made her feel safe and cherished. She had never felt that way before.  She had never thought that it was possible for a man to care for her so.  But it seemed that he did.

And he _shouldn't,_ she reminded herself stubbornly as she began to prepare the meats for that night.  He should be with a noble lady who could love him properly, be well-versed in the art of being a lady, with her chin up instead of tucked down, avoiding eye contact with those nearest.  She could never deserve him, even if he wanted her, and she realized that she was a fool to ever think otherwise.  

It was as though her heart had been torn, when she refused the King's invitation. Would he never come near her again, now?  Why would he, when she had rejected him?  She closed her eyes and ceased her motions for a moment.  It was painful, this longing, to run to him and apologize for saying no. 

"We have plenty of work to do!" She said, far too brightly, "I'll begin on the desserts!  Donna, could you chop the vegetables for me?"

"Of course," she replied, softly, sensing her mood.  "Yes."

They worked in silence. Amy came in a few times to check their progress to see what they were doing or what they needed, but she had other cleaning duties to tend to with Sarah Jane and a reluctant Harold, so other than that a pin could be heard if one was to drop it. 

Of course, Donna was simply waiting for the other shoe to drop.  After just this short amount of time, Donna knew that she things could not be like this.  She was going to have to become Rose's fairy godmother faster than she'd planned. 

"Would you excuse me?" She asked the others, "For about an hour?"

"Of course, Donna," Martha said, smiling. "You have been working hard all day. Go on."

Donna smiled as though nothing was amiss and practically skipped from the room.  If she went about this right, than the King could have his Queen and Rose all at once. She knew the King, and she knew that Rose was all he wanted anyway.  

Rose and Martha chattered aimlessly then, the tension broken a little bit, but not enough.  Martha sensed something was amiss and she sensed what it was, what with her clever mind and women's intuition, but she did not breach the subject with Rose, feeling that it would be rude.  However, the two women were friends, so they were still able to talk about all the things they had done over the past few days.  Mundane, servant things that they were, they were still things that they did, and it was all they had that was interesting to talk about.  Martha could read and so she spoke of that, of books she had borrowed from the library and then slipped back into place before they would be missed.  Rose thought that she had never had a better friend than Martha.

Donna was quicker than an hour, actually, as she was quite brilliant.  Sheer fabric upon layers and layers of blue and the most beautiful royal blue slippers.  A faux diamond and a white mask to full even the most clever advisers. Light, puffy sleeves, delicate, ladylike neckline. 

She smiled at her finished product, smoothing it over the mannaquin she had nicked from the market in her early days of sewing for the families in the castle.  This had been more important though.  She double checked the laces that ran up the back of the dress and settled the gloves over the shoulder so that she would remember where they were. 

She put her hands on her hips and nodded to herself.  "She shall be the belle of the ball."


	13. Chapter 13

Rose was moping, and she had a pink dress on, trying to make sure that she at least looked presentable.  The King was moping as well, because Rose had not come up, and he had genuinely expected her to.  It reminded him that she was very much her own woman, and very much allowed to refused. 

He wished she hadn't, though.  He missed her, and it wasn't like it was hat he was expecting.  He had never expected to grow attached to a servant.  He loved spending time with her, and he missed having her around, in the throne room or anywhere else. 

Rose, Martha, and Donna had laid out the hour de vours on tables that had been set up in the ballroom.  Guests would be arriving soon, and she was slightly upset about it.  She did not _want_ them to come.  She wanted to hide the King away in his chambers, preferably with her, and never let him out. 

The servants bustled about hurriedly, and they finished things in record time.  There was still a duck cooking, but many of the meats were ready and warming over a fire.  They were efficient, with Rose at the head of the cooking and Amy at the head of decorating, and everything for the ball fell into place quite nicely. 

Rose found herself alone in the kitchen just before the ball started, as some of the servants had already gone out to the ballroom to do the actual serving.  Roseopted to clean up the kitchen by herself, and the others, sensing there was a reason for her doing so, let her without complaint.  

What she did not expect was the visitor that came down to the kitchen to see her. 

He looked stunningly handsome.  He wore a red tunic, blue sash with badges and a gold belt cinching it closed.  He had his crown settled heavily on his head, and fiddled with his gold cuffs when he waited for her to turn around. 

She did not dip into a curtsy, as she would have when she came here in the beginning, but now that she had been so close to him, she could not find that she could bring herself to do what was proper. She wiped her hands off on her apron and looked him over.  He tugged at his black breeches, looking uncomfortable with her scrutiny.

"Hello," she said finally, not sure how else to start such a conversation.  

He smiled, "Hello," he replied.  He shifted forward and then back.  "You did not come to see me today."

"There was much work to be done, my King."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, trying to correct her without really correcting her. She shook her head and tapped the side of her nose. 

"There are eyes everywhere, you will find."

His brow furrowed in a way that made him look more worried than angry. He shook his head. "I do not care.  I really can not care less, not now."  He stepped closer to her and tipped her chin up, his knuckle forcing her to look at him. 

She met his eyes, wondering how she had survived without looking into them.  She sighed softly and let herself fall deeper into his gaze.  "I heard that they will match you tonight."

He made a face.  "You hear the gossip that is only half true.  They will _try_ to match me. The women in masks are the candidates."

She nodded. "And how will you choose?"

"You know that I will not. I wanted you to come to me, Rose."

"You could have come to me."

"I wanted it to be your choice," he said softly, "I did not want to force myself on you."

She lifted her eyebrows in surprise, "You have done the opposite of that," she said clearly, as though there was no room for argument, which of course, there was not.  He would not argue with Rose, even if, in his mind, it had been an option.

His eyes fell and he dropped his hand from her.  "I am not worthy of you, Rose," he said softly, "I could never be."

"You are the King," she said in disbelief, "You are worthy of everything that you could possibly want!  Anyone!"

The King reached up to cup her cheek. "I could not _want_ any of them.  I have made decisions that you would hate me more."

"I could never hate you," she said fiercely.  "Not when I feel this way about you."

He swallowed, hard, and brushed his thumb over her cheek. He stepped closer to her. "I would much rather stay here with you than go out to that bloody ball," he said softly, as though he did not want to admit it out loud.  

She bit her lip. "In the kitchen?" She teased.

"In the kitchen, in the gardens, in the _woods,_ in the cupboard. Anywhere, as long as you were there as well," he said, his voice strong but intimate. 

The intensity with which he spoke made her want to weep and clutch him to herself and never let him go.  She leaned forward, her forehead colliding with his chest as she rested there, still afraid to touch him. He pressed gentle kisses in her hair, cradling her head in both of his hands, his fingers touching her hair gently.  Her eyes slipped closed and she was quite fond of his touch on her skin and her hair.  

"This is not what I anticipated when I moved here to work," she said softly, "I did not-"

"I know you didn't," he said, pushing back, his gaze dropping to her mouth.  He dipped his head and kissed her, slow and chaste.  She clutched her hands in his clothes, hoping she was not wrinkling them but not really caring that much.  He sighed against her mouth, as though he had been waiting ages to do so. 

His mouth opened over hers and the kiss deepened substantially.  She made a soft noise and he pressed her against the counter, seeking for closeness from her that she had not quite given.  She was not _close_ enough, and he growled in frustration. 

She broke away suddenly, panting heavily.  He kissed down her neck and pulled the collar of her dress down to bite at her collarbone, sucking at the skin before pressing more loving kisses across the bones.  She wanted to run her hands through his hair, but it was very well styled and she did not think it was her place to muss it.  It was perfectly obvious that he was fine with mussing her as much as possible. 

"They will be expecting you," she gasped. 

"They can wait," he growled in response.

She had a feeling they couldn't.  Or, at the very least, that they wouldn't.  He lifted up to kiss her again, long and deep, as though he was taking his last taste of her, and did not want to let the moment go to waste.  She let him take command, feeling his desperation and fueling it with her own.   He clenched his hands in her apron against her hips, pressing the heels of his hands into the bones.  She let him continue until she knew that he had to go and do what he was meant to do, or at the very least, what was expected of him.

Once she could justify doing so, she sighed and pushed him off of her. He looked confused and she stroked his cheek and jawbone, wanting him to feel like this was not by choice.  Of course leaving him was not by choice.  She never wanted to leave him, not anymore.  She regretted not going to see him.  It might be their last chance.  They might match him, regardless of what he wanted, and she did not even want to think about how much that very thought broke her heart.  She faked a smile and dropped her hand down, smoothing her palm over his chest.  "We both have our jobs to do," she said quietly, shifting so she was resting her hands on his shoulders, smoothing out the material of his clothes.  She licked her lips and he made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. She smiled up at him.  "Now, go do yours, John."

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "I will not choose," he said firmly, "I want you to know that."

"Thank you," she said softly, weakly.  He stepped away from her, his eyes full of regret that he could not bear to speak of.  He slipped from the kitchen and she sighed, putting herself back together before she began to cleaning again.  

Later on, Donna sprang into the room. "Rose, you come with me."

Rose blinked and looked at the excited woman, "What are you doing?" She asked, "We have to go down to the ball."

"Oh, you do," Donna said, "Now, come on, come on! We have something very important to attend to!" 

She led Rose up the steps to her chambers and Rose gasped when she saw the blue gown. "Oh, Donna, what is this?" She asked, knowing full well what it was, but not matching up that it was for her, just yet.

"It's for you."

Rose blinked. "I couldn't!  No, I shan't! Donna, I-"

"You love the King, don't you?" Donna asked bluntly, putting her hands on her hips.

Rose wrung her hands, and let out a little sigh before nodding.  It was hard for her to admit, but she had to be honest with herself. She did love him.  Very much, if she was honest.  She did not know when it had happened, but it had, and she could not tell him, so she did not even bother to tell herself.

Donna held up the white mask. "To make you a candidate for the King's hand," she dipped into a mock curtsy, "my lady."

Rose giggled. "Donna!  Why did you do all this?"

"Because, Rose, I see the way he looks at you, and the see the way you look at him.  It's clear what needs to be done, and I'm going to be the one to do it.  No arguments!  We're going to get you into that dress and you are going to be the most lovely woman at that ball!  Understood?"

Rose felt happiness sweeping through her, and she nodded. "Yes!" She giggled, "Okay!"

Donna smiled, because she knew that Rose would not be able to resist such an offer.  She helped Rose into the dress.  It was the biggest dress that Rose had ever worn, and when Donna laced it up, it fit her like a dream.  She smoothed her hands down the skirt and let out a soft gasp.  "It's beautiful."

"Now, let me do your hair and we'll get this mask on you," Donna said happily.  Rose could not pretend to know where Donna had gotten all of these skills, but she was not in a position to complain. She let Donna maneuver her hair into a classical updo. 

"I wasn't always a servant," Donna said in answer to all of Rose's unanswered questions, but she did not say anything to elaborate on that, and Rose had an idea that she was not about to.  

Once Rose was fully prepared, dark blue slippers on her feet and making her feel beautiful from head to toe, she stood up and let Donna tie the mask onto her.  

Donna smiled at Rose happily.  "You look beautiful," she said, "The King won't be able to resist."

Rose blushed, but it was barely visible under the mask.  Donna showed her how she looked in a little hand mirror that she had.  Rose gasped.  The dress fit her perfectly and sparkled along the skirt, making her look like she truly belonged at the ball.  She slipped on the gloves and Donna smiled as though Rose was her daughter getting ready for her wedding day. 

"Now, let's go," she said, "And show them exactly where you belong."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I anticipate one more chapter after this, and I believe my next AU will be a single parent one :)

She was very fidgety when Donna showed her sneakily into the ballroom. Rose looked around at all the things she had prepared for the night and smiled a little to herself.  Everything looked so beautiful, and she was glad that she could be the reason that it looked so. 

For a moment, she looked around for the King, but didn't spot him.  She chewed her bottom lip, wondering if he had enjoyed what she had done, how everything looked.  She didn't want to be nervous, but she had never looked like this, not in front of him, not ever.  

She wrung her hands, the gloves scraping across each other.  Donna slapped her hands and Rose dropped them to her sides, looking sheepish.

"You look beautiful," Donna said, "What you need to do now is find the King and talk to him.  Tell him it's you.  He'll want to know."

"How am I supposed to get to him?"

Donna laughed.  "All the women who are vying for the King's hand are wearing masks.  He has to dance with all of them," she tapped the side of Rose's mask. "Now, I do believe that you are wearing a mask, so a certain dashing King will have to approach you at some point or another.  Or, if you are feeling daring, you could approach him."

Rose giggled, feeling a little more at ease. She nodded quite happily.  "Yes, alright then.  I guess I should go off."

Donna shoved her shoulder playfully and scurried off before Rose could say another word.  She sighed, still feeling a little nervous, and squared her shoulders before walking to the drink table that she had set up just a few hours previous. There were bottles of wine, goblets lining the table.  When they sat down for the banquet, there would, of course, be more drink, but this was just to loosen the tongues of the guests. 

A man slid up next to Rose, all blonde hair and green eyes sparkling down at her.  "May I pour you a drink?"

Rose smiled politely.  "Yes, thank you," she said.  He poured her a drink and handed it to her.  She thanked him quietly and took a sip of the wine.  Of course, she tried not to think too hard about what happened the last time she drank wine.

"So, you are here for the King's hand?" The man asked, toasting her. 

"Yes," She replied, "I suppose our masks give us away, do they not?"

"They certainly do," the man nodded.  "But you look quite lovely. What is your name?"

She took a step back, wanting him to keep his distance.  She was here for the _King's_ hand, after all, not this man's.  "Rose." she said, not letting him know her last name.  John was the only one who knew that about her, and she quite liked it that way.  She liked that she had access to his name as well. It filled her with a sense of power that she did not know that one woman could feel.  But she did; she was obsessed with the feel of his name on her lips, and the words 'Rose Tyler' rolling from his tongue. 

"A lovely name for a lovely girl," the man smiled, a look more friendly than romantic.  She breathed out a sigh, relieved, and smiled back. 

"And what is your name?" She asked.  

The man laughed slightly.  "You know, I do believe that if I told you, you would not remember.  Go on now, catch the King."

She blushed under her mask, her eyes lowering.  She looked across the ballroom and saw the King dancing with a woman in a sea green gown.  He was looking over her head, looking quite disinterested as she spoke to him as though he should be invested in every word she spoke.  Rose bit her lip to keep from laughing.  He looked so _angry._ Of course, she would be too, if she was in that situation.  But it was clear that he did not want to be there, and so she felt completely safe.

"I'm next," she whispered, and bid her new friend goodbye, finishing the rest of her wine for courage, and then walking to stand as close to the King as possible without getting too much into his space.  She stood nearby, watching him, jealous of the hand on the other woman's waist, jealous of the hand that held his.  She felt a quiet anger simmer beneath the surface.  He didn't belong to her, of course not, but she could not help but think that he should, under several circumstances.

The song ended and the King stepped back from the woman as if she'd burned him.  He smiled and clapped for the orchestra, and started to walk away from her.  Behind her mask, the woman's eyes fell, and Rose almost felt sorry for her.  But only for a moment.  The King turned to her, sensing she was next, and he looked confused for a moment, but she did not back down.  She could not give up on him, not now. 

 Rose took the opportunity of his surprise to step forward and smile up at the King.  

He looked down at her, seeming confused, and then his eyes raked over her.  He looked from her face all the way down to her toes, and back up.  He clasped his right hand over his heart and bowed to her.  She let out a breath and curtsied deeply.  She could not take her eyes from him, and she was glad she could see his whole face, that he did not wear a mask.  She smiled at him still, her grin growing wider.

After several moments, after they had both straightened up, he let out a laugh and reached for her.  "Rose Tyler, I would know that smile anywhere."  He said fondly, in a tone that was almost loving.  He took hold of her waist and her hand, drawing her close in a position that she was not used to when it came to dancing, as she had never _really_ danced before. "I want to know exactly how this happened. Where did you get that dress?  How did you-?"

"Donna made me the dress," Rose said as the King began to sweep her into another dance as the sounds of the orchestra began to pick up.  He curled his fingers into her back and looked her over as best as he could.  "She just showed it to me. I was moping a bit, that I couldn't come to the ball that I had planned. 

"Oh, you did a beautiful job, you lovely woman.  Everything is perfect.  Absolutely perfect.  I have never had someone be here that is quite like you."

She blushed and looked down.  She had never experienced quite so many compliments before she had met him.

"You look so lovely," he said, "I would kiss you if there weren't so many eyes on us," his eyes searched hers.  "And your face is covered."

"I did not think you would recognize me," she admitted, "But even so, them women competing for the hand of the King must wear masks."

He furrowed his brows.  "How did you think that I would not recognize you?" He asked, or more, demanded. "I can not... Of course I would recognize you.  You mean the world to me, Rose."

He had never said something quite like that.  She blinked in surprise but watched him some more, searching his gaze, searching for emotions that she could not dare to put a name on.  She squeezed his hand in hers and stepped closer to him as they danced. he was leading, as they had a bit of trouble since Rose was having a troubled time keeping up.  She had never truly danced before, and it was a bit difficult for her to remember exactly what she had seen Mrs. Chesterton do when they had parties at their estate. 

"John," she whispered. "I'm not here on a whim."

His eyes darkened marginally as he watched her carefully.  "I did not think that you were," he said, "But I am pleasantly shocked that you are here at all.  Donna is a miracle worker, isn't she?"

"I think she is," Rose replied.  She slid her hand farther up on his shoulder.  "But you can never choose me."

"Perhaps I can,' he said slowly, "If you got into the party, after all, than you must be a legitimate guest, eh?"

"The women will be angry."

"I believe the women will survive. Take a walk in the garden with me?"

She nodded, once more biting her lip, this time to keep from smiling too widely.  She felt if she did, her face was quite likely to split into two.  She followed him from the ballroom, her hand slid into the crook of his arm.  She kept glancing up at him, and each time she did, he was looking back at her.  The thought that he couldn't stop looking at her just as she couldn't stop looking at him made her heart swim with excitement. 

The King walked them down to the flower gardens, and he draped a spare cloak he had over her shoulders.  He walked them along in silence until he turned to her to face her fully. "Take off your mask," he said softly, "I want to see your face."

She removed the mask, peering up at him, hoping that his expectations hadn't been too high.  She looked the same, aside from the way her hair fell and was arranged around her face.  She blinked at him and waited for him to change his mind, decided that he really did not want to be with a girl this homely, a _servant._ For God's sake, she cooked his dinners.  

He reached up tentatively, as though afraid to touch her, and framed her face with one hand, gently cradling her cheek. "You are so beautiful," he said softly.  "In everything I have ever seen you in, you are beautiful, but this?  You stand tall in this.  You are regal."  He leaned closer to her, touching her nose with his.  "I think you were always meant to be a queen."

She shivered and stepped closer to him.  "Will your advisers let you?" She asked softly. "I don't want to be... I want... I don't want to be disappointed."

He brought his other hand up to her opposite cheek. "They're going to have to.  I'm the King of bloody Scotland.  I've decided what we're doing."

"So, do you have something to ask me, then?" Rose asked, feeling daring with his affection being showered upon her. The King nodded and pressed a kiss to her cheek, afraid of kissing her on the lips, where he so desperately wanted to, for fear of being seen. 

"Not yet," he said softly. "When the time comes, I will ask you.  Jack will take care of everything." He kissed the corner of her jaw and shifted the cloak to kiss her shoulder. "I will give you everything you have never wanted, because you have been too humble to ask.  I will give you a warm bed and my warm body, meals that you do not have to cook."  He stepped back from her and took her hands in his.  "Your hands will soften, no longer be rough from work.  Your hands are delicate.  You are delicate.  I wish for you to stay that way, to never slave in the fields or anywhere else."  He dropped kisses to her knuckles and held them pressed there, his face full of honesty that tugged at her heart in a way she didn't' think that she would ever understand. 

"John," she breathed. 

"You should be the most happy person in this world," he told her. "I want to make you the happiest person."

"You already do," she reassured him, squeezing his hands. "You give me more than I thought I deserve."

He smiled at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Ah.  For now, I will restrain myself. Replace your mask, dear. I will spend the whole night dancing with you.  Then, it will be no question, who I have chosen as my Queen."

She smiled, and he helped her replace the mask before they walked into the ballroom once more. Jack, who watched from afar, smiled. She did look quite like a queen when she walked next to him like that.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the love on this, everyone! i hope you liked it.
> 
> ALSO my next AU will be a single parent AU! i have never attempted anything like that before. Now, for reader input: I ask you select one of two professions if you so desire: Teacher or housekeeper?
> 
> ANOTHER QUESTION last year on my wattpad i did 25 days of ficmas. I do not go on wattpad that much but would you guys like it if I did 25 Doctor/Rose prompts in the month of December on this site?

It was quite a glorious night, where John and Rose were together, not as the King and his servant, but as equals, people who were not quite ready to admit that they were very much in love. She slid her hand into the crook of his arm and he led her back to the dance floor. He turned her around so that she was facing him, and he held his other hand out to her as he bowed.

She smiled and curtsied to him, and he took her in his arms and swept her back into a dance that she had no understanding of, and he had to lead her through. She liked it though, leaning on him, letting him drag her through. She laughed slightly, her cheeks pressing against her mask. She wished she wasn't wearing that mask. She wanted him to see the happiness in her whole face. There was going to have to be a moment where she thanked Donna for this, for what she had done for her.

The King of bloody Scotland wanted to marry her. Her mind could hardly fathom the words. She beamed up at him, wanting to reach up and cup his cheek, hold him close, kiss him. Unfortunately, they were bound to rules of propriety, and they were still quite innocent in their actions, even though she had been in his bed. The way she had been there was for comfort and not much else.

Though his kisses made her feel like the most loved woman on the planet. She could not imagine being given more attention then she did when she was with him. She could only hope that on some level, she made him feel the same way. The way he was looking at her told her that perhaps she did.

And they talked. Rose had never found someone that she had enjoyed talking to so much. He asked about her childhood, and told her that in fact, he was having people sent out to look for her mother.

She stared up at him in awe. "Really?" She asked softly.

He nodded. "Of course. She is important to you, evne though you haven't seen her in a long time. She is still your mother, and gave you your name, both first and last, one of which you cannot even use because of your status."

"Well, what of you, my King, have you not a last name?"

He smiled sadly and shook his head. "My father dropped it. Said that being king was enough. He was a proud man, and my mother a proud woman."

"I am sorry they are not with you."

"Stuffy lot, my family. You would have hated them anyway."

She smiled sadly at him. "Let us talk about the past no longer. We know who the other person has been. Who will we become, hm? What will I make you? What will you make me?"

He regarded her with adoration and admiration, and smiled at her. "You are an incredible woman, do you realize that?"

She blushed and lowered her eyes, not wanting him to see how embarrassed she was by his flattery. He took his hand from hers and tipped her chin up with a crooked finger. He looked at her with a thoughtful expression. "No one has ever spoken to you as I do."

It was not a question, but she took it as such, because she had to, because he deserved to know. She nodded. "No one has," she replied, as he took her hand again in a seamless motion, as though they had never ceased touching. "And it is quite different from the way I am used to being treated."

He scoffed a bit, though not at her. "Well, from now on, my lady, you will never be treated as less than what I see you as. Quite precious indeed."

She had never been called 'my lady', had never held in such high esteem. It was odd, almost felt like it was not a world in which she was living. Yet here she was, living like a member of the royal court, all because the King had seen something else in her that no one else had. She looked at him, watched him with the careful watchfulness of a woman that knew nothing about being loved, only that she wanted it.

It was incredible, to be looked at like that, and she never wanted him to stop looking at her like that. So she grinned at him, and she knew he could see the sparkle in her eye, the happiness in her gaze. She could tell he wanted to kiss her and she wanted him to kiss her, but not here. Never here.

What he did do, instead of kiss her, was make it very clear who he belonged to. Many women tried to cut in, one more persistent than most, but the King turned to her with uninterested eyes and said, "May I help you?"

"I believe the purpose of this ball is for you to pick a wife," the woman said.

The King looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. "The purpose of the Christmas ball is to celebrate Christmas. Although! If, in fact, I choose a wife, as my advisers want me to, then that is quite good for me, isn't it?"

"May I dance with you, my King?"

He shifted his hand on Rose's back. "I am a bit preoccupied at the moment." He threw a glance at the woman and then back at Rose.

"Oh, of course," The woman said, swallowing nearly audibly. "Alright, perhaps later on in the night."

She curtsied and smiled tightly. He regarded her with a regal stare and looked back at Rose. "Perhaps," he said in a way that was certainly meant to be dismissive.

Rose giggled the moment the woman left and so did the King, leaning forward to press his forehead to hers. She had never felt so happy in her life.

They danced together all night, and he never even so much as glanced at another woman. That alone made her feel like she was the most special person in the room. And of course, to John, she was. He didn't want to look at anyone else, it wasn't really like it had been a conscious choice for him to do so. He was simply lost in the idea of her eyes, in the warmth of her skin through the magnificent dress she was wearing.

She did not know quite what she was doing, but he guided her seamlessly through all the dances, counting softly in her ear as they moved. At one point, they must have been too close, their chests pressed together and her forehead on his shoulder as he counted to her. Jack had cleared his throat from next to them but smiled and winked after he did so, as though to say that he didn't really mean it.

At the end of the night, when the clock struck midnight, one of the advisers stepped forward and clapped quite violently, getting the attention of everyone still dancing and eating and drinking. Rose practically jumped away from the King and laced her hands together in front of herself, looking down at where her delicately slippered feel would be if she didn't have a massive skirt on.

He smiled at her, at the innocent way she moved, the color in her cheeks at being caught too close to him. Most women, if they had been dancing so intimately with the King all night, would be chatting with their friends about it, or perhaps hanging off his arm.

But not Rose. She was just happy to be there, happy to be with him.

The adviser raised a hand in greeting before speaking: "It has come to the attention of myself and many of the other guests in attendance this evening that King John of Scotland may have chosen a bride.  Am I correct, my lord?"

The King beamed and nodded, glancing over at Rose with sparkling, happy eyes. She felt her heart stutter in her chest.  This was far too magical.  This night could not possibly belong to her.  Donna, who stood at the other end of the ballroom, hip against the door frame, smiled widely. This was what both of them had always needed, even if they couldn't see it.  There could not be another, more perfect couple.

"Ah, wonderful!" The adviser clapped his hands and so did many in attendance there at the ball, except, of course, for the women who had been vying for the King's hand (in vain, of course, for his hand and the rest of him already belonged to another woman who stood next to him in a stunning blue gown).  "Would you care to step up here and introduce her to the people, then?"

The King nodded and raised his hand out towards Rose. She settled her shaky hand a top his, wondering why she had ever gone and fallen in love with the King if _this_ was what it was going to be like, and he led her to wear his adviser stood.  The adviser bowed to the King and then Rose before moving out of the way.

"Dear people, it has always been my belief that anyone who wants to be happy should have that happiness. I found happiness in this woman long ago, but was too afraid of our differences and who we are separating us.  It was foolish of me.  Remove your mask, my love."

Rose looked a little startled at the endearment, but removed her hand from his to untie the silky white strings and let her mask fall to her palms.  She registered the look of shock on many of the faces in the crowd and inwardly grimaced. Of course, she would be known from the Chesterton's estate and from her trips to the market and town here.  

"For those of you unaware, this is Rose Tyler. She came to my attention not long ago, but since she had it, she has kept it.  I wish to make her my wife.  Anyone caught saying anything derogatory about this woman will be punished, I assure you."

The King was preparing to level a glare at the crowd, but to his surprise, they erupted into cheers, even the women  who had wanted to marry the King could not resist such a story.  Then, as though they had all been told to do so (which of course, they had not, unless Donna learned how to speak into the minds of others) the women curtsied and the men bowed.  The King beamed at Rose, her shocked expression painting her face. 

"And so I introduce to you for the first time, Lady Rose, who will soon become your Queen."

***  
The King demanded that Rose be allowed to sleep in his chambers with him. "I don't care about the impropriety," he'd told Jack, "I just want her to have a comfortable bed, and I want her with me."

Of course, Jack, being the man that he was, cared not for impropriety, and shrugged off the King's request with a 'go ahead'.  

Rose was given a fine silk shift to wear and The King looked at her approvingly as she entered the room in it.

"You look beautiful," he told her.

"Would you have done this if not for the ball?" She asked suddenly, "I did not pressure you?"

The King shook his head and stood from the bed, walking to where she stood.  "No, you did not pressure me, my love," he told her, "I merely saw the opportunity to prove to this whole kingdom what you mean to me, and so I did it. I can hardly think that you could have orchastrated such an event."

She smiled meekly. "No, but Donna did."

"Ah. Remind me to give her some sort of reward.  She deserves it."  He said, and Rose giggled before he leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. "I love you," he breathed, the words finally leaving him properly and spilling into the ears of whom those words belonged.

She brought her hands up to cup his cheeks and stole a kiss from him, which turned into many kisses, and finally replied back "John.  I love you, too."

And they were never parted (and she never did sleep in a different bed).

*****

Now, you may think that their story is over, but although they lived quite happily, other things happened that were quite good for the two of them.

John found Rose's mother and brought her to live in the palace with them.  Although Jacqueline Tyler was not one to sit back and take happiness she did not think she deserved, she had missed her daughter so terribly that she could not find a reason to say no to anything either the King or Rose asked of her. 

They were married, of course, and Rose became queen, and she had no idea what she was doing, but she liked to say that she had the best teacher of them all.  He loved her and was patient and her heart nearly burst with loving him. 

She spent time with Martha and Donna, and sometimes she cooked with them just because she liked it. They were happy to have a friend in her. 

The King and Rose had many children, and the King felt the hole that was in his hearts be filled by the beautiful blonde woman who had fell into his life.

And he had whispered one word to her at the wedding, one word that defined them, and what they did, and what they stood for. 

"Forever."


End file.
